


Rescue

by longforgottenhymn



Series: endgame fics and fix-its [2]
Category: Agent Carter (TV), Captain America (Movies), Marvel Cinematic Universe, Spider-Man (Tom Holland Movies), The Avengers (Marvel Movies)
Genre: BAMF Peter Parker, But also, Cloak of Levitation (Marvel), F/M, I've been working on this pretty much since Endgame came out, Peter Parker Needs a Hug, Protective Tony Stark, Rated teen for swearing, Time Travel Fix-It, also, bernard stark is in this (aka that flamingo from agent carter) because I do what I want, mostly set between season 1 and 2 of agent carter, tags to be added as the story progresses, there are some more cameos in this but i don't wanna clutter the tags
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-11-02
Updated: 2021-01-17
Packaged: 2021-03-09 10:13:16
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 23
Words: 70,230
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27349450
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/longforgottenhymn/pseuds/longforgottenhymn
Summary: Peter Parker’s mask folds back into the collar of his ironclad Spider-man suit. It looks the same as the one he wore in the battle against Thanos. The one he wore when Tony died.‘Oh shit,’ the kid pants. ‘Oh, oh fuck.’Steve doesn’t think whatever Peggy put in the box is going to cover this – two children stuck in the past with one mobius strip between the both of them. The question is how they even got here in the first place.‘Pete?’ Morgan says, her small frame shaking with shock. ‘Did- did it work? Did we bring back dad?’Steve finds himself in the forties with two kids hell-bent on bringing back Tony. The fact that none of them should be there in the first place and that they don't really have a way back doesn't help much. Also, Peter's got a plan that might just destory the timeline... But he's getting Tony back, whatever it takes.Endgame Fix-It, now complete!
Relationships: Peggy Carter/Steve Rogers, Peter Parker & Morgan Stark (Marvel Cinematic Universe), Peter Parker & Steve Rogers, Peter Parker & Tony Stark
Series: endgame fics and fix-its [2]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1346860
Comments: 187
Kudos: 480





	1. Chapter 1

_August, 1970_

The Tesseract is safely stowed away underground once more – it’s like it never left at all. Steve is done. He’s put back Mjolnir and the Aether on Asgard, left the Sceptre and Time Stone in New York, the Orb on Morag… He’d hoped, returning the Soul stone, that he’d get a glimpse of Natasha. A traitorous yearning inside him thought that maybe, just maybe he could get her back.

There’d been nothing. She’s gone – at peace. They’ll meet again when his time comes.

He has one set of Pym particles left, the mobius strip locked in on the time Banner and he agreed upon, ten seconds after his departure in 2023. Still, Steve lingers. _One last time,_ he thinks, making his way through the corridors past Hank’s laboratory. He stands outside the entrance marked _Director Margaret Carter_. Just one last time he’ll see her face.

It’s dark inside as he slips by the door. He’s hoping she’ll be in the other room again but he can’t wait for long – it would be too risky, he can’t let anyone notice him. They’ve come too far to jeopardise the future now.

Tony’s sacrifice mustn't be for nothing.

‘Steve,’ a woman murmurs behind the Captain, her accent a familiarly soft Queen's English – Peggy’s leaning against the corner behind the door, lurking in the shadows. Steve jumps, turning on instinct only to spin around again lest he show his face. No – this isn’t how everything’s supposed to go, he can’t screw up now, not after all they gave to secure the future.

To his surprise, his presence doesn’t unnerve her. She’s smiling knowingly, a reflection in the window before him like this is just another day in the office – albeit an especially interesting one.

‘Don’t bother hiding, I know it’s you,’ she says playfully, then sobers. ‘Please. Let me see you.’

He considers his choices. She already knows and he longs to face her too, so he slowly relents and does as she says. Peggy has aged gracefully, every line around her eyes like a fond memory he wishes he knew by heart and her arms cross her chest, a wedding band glinting in the soft lines of light that peek through the blinds from the room next door.

‘I’m not supposed to be here,’ he says. She chuckles.

‘Actually, I rather think you are. Don’t worry, Steve. You haven’t messed with our timeline. This was always meant to happen.’

‘What?’

‘I’ve known for years that you’d come,’ she explains, pushing herself away from the wall to approach him. ‘This is where you choose.’

‘I don’t understand,’ he admits. There’s a battle of wills in his head and one side begs him to run, far away before he can change the past even more than he already has – _stay,_ the other says. _Stay with her._

‘I’ve met you. This you, I mean – May 1947. You’ll travel back there just after this. I’m meant to give you these,’ Carter leans past him, opening a drawer in her desk and producing a box wrapped in brown paper and thin cotton strings, tied up in a neat bow.

‘You… you’ve met me?’

‘Yes. It was quite the shock, but oh so worth it. And… Well, you have a choice in front of you. Either you can just return for one, final visit… or, you can stay.’

Steve chokes on air. It’s like she knows the inside of his heart, every last thing that he’s always dreamt of, longed for. A way back, a quiet retirement – a life. He’s been Captain America for years, he’s served his country and himself well. Just like every soldier, he’s always fought so that he can go home even though he knew he never truly could. But now… now she’s telling him that he can.

It’s too good to be true.

Steve’s never been truly selfish. When he fought his own team in Germany, it wasn’t just for him but for Bucky – when he went AWOL after Siberia, it was because people still needed him to fight for them. So he’s never been truly selfish, not without another person in mind.

There’s a voice nagging him about shape shifting aliens and illusions and this not being Peggy at all. Besides, it’d never work.

‘What about… what about you? You have children, a husband. I can’t just-’

‘You’re not going to take my children away,’ Peggy promises, nudging him with the box until he takes it. ‘Whatever you decide, you’re not going to change anything. There’s an explanation in there and a few supplies you’re going to need once you’ve chosen. It’s up to you, Steve. If you wish only to see me and return, I’m sure there’s something in there to help you back.’

‘Pym particles?’

She smiles mysteriously, ‘You’ll see, once you’ve decided.’

She could be an alien, an enemy deceiving him like Wanda’s vision back when Ultron was the team’s biggest concern. But this, the air, the moment – it feels unmistakably real.

‘And if I… choose wrong,’ he indulges her.

‘Whatever you do, you’ll find exactly what you need in this.’ Peggy pats the box carefully – something clinks together inside. ‘Trust me. After all, for me this has already happened. And it worked out just fine.’

Steve feels the corners of his lips twitch upwards, ‘I don’t think you’re supposed to tell me anything about my future.’

‘I thought it was vague enough to bear saying. I’m not telling you what to do, I’m voicing whatever thoughts are already in your head. It’s a loophole.’

He chuckles. She’s close enough for him to smell her perfume – a refined scent, reminding him of blossoms peaking through the snow in early spring. Her eyes flit to his, glinting with mirth. It feels real.

‘It’s strange,’ she says, ‘you still look so young.’

‘I’m ten years older than last you saw me. Or, last I saw you. Well, I’m actually eighty years older, technically, but…’

‘You don’t look it,’ Peggy finishes for him.

‘Yeah.’

She nods, forcing herself to take a step back. Steve catches himself almost reaching out to stop her and he grabs a tight hold of the desk behind him instead.

‘You should go,’ she says. ‘May 16th 1947, a quarter past three. You’ll end up in an alleyway in Los Angeles.’

‘LA? Did you relocate to the west coast after the war?’

‘It was more of a vacation,’ she shrugs cryptically, ‘but that’s all I can really say. I’m sorry, Steve, but I have to go now. I’d love to stay, but…’

‘I understand,’ he lies, trying to ignore the way his heart sinks in his chest. It’s not an indefinite farewell this time around.

‘Goodbye, my love.’ She opens the door, lingering for a moment. Light pours over her figure from outside as if she’s ready to depart through the curtains for a grand stage.

‘See you in a sec,’ he quips.

When she’s gone and nothing emerges from the shadows to attack, he decides to trust his gut.

May 16th 1947. 15:15:00. Los Angeles, United States, Earth. He takes a final look around the room, glancing to the framed picture of him that Peggy’s kept on her desk, of him before the serum with dog tags still around his neck. 1947. It’s going to be one heck of a trip down memory lane.

The suit materialises around him, helmet closing in over his head. He presses a button on his mobius strip and shrinks past atoms and electrons until there’s only a whirlwind of tunnels left. Steve keeps left. He wonders if he’ll recognise the forties or if it’ll be like waking up in the 21st century all over again.

Deep down, he wonders, hopes, that what she said was the truth.

* * *

  
  


_May, 1947_

The alley isn’t empty.

He arrives just before 15:15:01, quantum suit retracting into the wristband leaving him exposed in his very obvious Captain America outfit. It’s been two years since he went into the ice here. If anyone were to see him, they’d most definitely recognise the long lost war hero.

Steve ducks behind a clutter of trash cans trying to make out whether or not he’s alone. There’s a homeless man sleeping a few feet away from him, a pair of empty bottles laying in a heap at his feet. He barely moves at all. Other than that there’s no one in sight except on the main road. Old fashioned, rounded cars are going by and men in formal attire are guiding women in long skirts and wavy hair down the pavement.

‘I’ll be damned,’ he breathes. He’s been to space, fought an alien army and travelled through time on more than one occasion, but it’s still hard to believe that this is it. He’s home again.

A rumbling noise starts up behind him. It almost sounds like rattling – Steve puts his box down and steps in front of it, shielding his eyes as a flash of light emerges. It’s like a wind, pulling stray newspaper towards the centre of it, making the homeless man’s bottles roll away from him at an escalating speed.

Something snaps, a shrill scream coming through before two figures tumble to the ground. One of them is wearing a quantum suit. The other one isn’t.

‘Hey!’ he calls, running up to them – the helmet retracts around the smaller of the two, revealing a confused, tear-stained Morgan Stark. ‘Wha- what are you doing here?’

Peter Parker’s mask folds back into the collar of his ironclad Spider-man suit. It looks the same as the one he wore in the battle against Thanos. The one he wore when Tony died.

‘Oh shit,’ the kid pants. ‘Oh, oh fuck.’

Steve doesn’t think whatever Peggy put in the box is going to cover this – two children stuck in the past with one mobius strip between the both of them. Well. At least now, he won’t have to choose whether or not to stay. One of them is going to need his suit.

The question is how they even got here in the first place.

‘Pete?’ Morgan says, her small frame shaking with shock. ‘Did- did it work? Did we bring back dad?’

Out of all the things she could have said, Steve did not expect that.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Welcome to my all-finished, (hopefully) regularly updated, indulgent time travel extravaganza! The following chapters will have a lot of references to the Agent Carter series (and maybe even a few cameos!) so stick around for that! You'll still be able to follow the story if you haven't seen it though.
> 
> The fic has 23 chapters and I'm thinking of updating every five or so days, but I haven't quite decided yet! Anyway, thank you for reading and let me know what you think!


	2. Chapter 2

_September, 2023_

Peter’s not supposed to have a quantum realm suit. He isn’t really supposed to be here either, seeing as it’s twelve a.m. and he’s got English and he’s not even in New York – but hey, he’s been dead for five years. That kind of puts things into perspective. May’s letting him stay over at Pepper’s place for the time being as a break from things.

He might have punched Flash. In the corridor. At school. And almost gotten expelled. So now he’s at Pepper’s in the hopes that he’ll work through his grief, leave some of the anger behind and not send anyone else to the hospital. To be fair, Flash has been taunting him for years and the bully was the first one to get physical. Peter couldn’t help that he’s stronger, that he won.

A long time ago, before he died, he would’ve been appalled at the thought of something like this happening. Now… he’s been numb for days. Occasionally, his brain will switch on his emotions for long enough to feel the brunt of crippling guilt over knowing Flash might have to get reconstructive surgery for his nose, but then he’s back to nothing again.

There’s not much that matters any more.

There’s a void. An empty space in the glass display cube which used to house mr Stark’s first arc reactor. _Proof that Tony Stark has a heart._ Pepper laid it down on a bed of flowers and let it drift down the river and now it’s lost forever – it’s gone, and there’s a void there, a black hole that greedily sucks in everything that passes it by and spares nothing, no one.

There’s one reason why Peter’s at the Stark residence right now instead of watching PSAs in detention, and that’s Morgan. Seeing her hurts, because she’s so alike Tony. They have the same kind, quirky eyes and a million ideas trapped in their heads. But, from the first time she hugged him, she’s been the only one who’s been able to calm him down. Besides, she likes him.

May does her best, and crying into her chest twice a week does help. Pepper’s great, she makes him warm milk when he’s upset and even though he’s not a kid any more, it still does wonders. But Morgan – there’s something special about her. She’ll bring her crayons and the fancy drawing block she got for Christmas over to him and for a few minutes, he’ll forget about dust, running through an army thinking he’ll die again and whispering _mr Stark_ to someone who can’t hear it any more. She doesn’t even remind him that much of the funeral. Perhaps it’s because they’re both still in denial, that they both seek out whatever distraction’s at hand.

Peter snagged a mobius strip after the grand battle. Pepper had taken him to a Stark Industries owned lab where everyone got medical attention. Clint Barton threw his wristband onto a table like he never wanted to see it again and it’d just… lain there. Rhodey and Pep had been talking about what to do with the body, and he’d panicked and grabbed it. Maybe he could go back and stop Tony from dying, maybe he could fix this.

Fat chance the universe had said – it wasn’t loaded. Peter had gotten the word _Pym particles_ out of Captain America before Pepper pulled him close, asking if he wanted to come home with her until they got a hold of May. Then he’d had a panic attack and they’d both cried, and then there’d been a funeral and school and not enough time to remember the wristband at all.

Almost a month has gone by since the battle. Since… everything. He’s back in the Stark Residence, one step into the garage where Tony has built a lab of sorts. Workbenches and scrap metal line the walls. The blue and gold Rescue armour stands in one corner and there’s a half-finished project on the counter closest to him. It’s an improved web shooter Peter asked for five years ago, just a few days before he died.

And his mentor remembered it.

Mr Stark left a recorded message in the event of his death, and while it was mostly aimed at his wife and child, there’d also been a note. The yellow, sticky kind May always writes their grocery list on. _Make sure the kid gets his web shooters – they’re in the garage, he’ll know how to assemble the rest of ‘em. Love you, X._ Pepper hadn’t noticed it on the fridge until earlier today.

Peter isn’t here for his web shooters though. He takes a deep breath and closes the door behind him – the mobius strip is in his backpack and he intends to get it to work. There must be at least one stray Pym particle in one of these boxes and drawers, right? All he has to do is find it and he’ll be on his way.

There’s a blueprint – the holographic kind – rolled up next to Pepper’s armour and as soon as it’s opened FRIDAY’s voice greets him. The AI gets him up to speed relatively quickly, explaining the mobius strips’ inner workings in great detail. He doesn’t say why he’s asking, afraid she’ll disapprove.

When the other Avengers went back in time they were adamant not to change anything. Peter doesn’t care about logic and screwing up his own past. He’s getting Tony back, whatever it takes.

Whatever it takes.

‘Pete?’

Little Morgan is nudging the door open – it’s made out of heavy, sturdy wood and decorative metal that must make it weigh at least twice as much as her. He glances to the blueprint, still open on the table. She’s too young to understand what it is. She won’t snitch on him.

‘Hey,’ he smiles instead of scrambling to cover it, ‘what’s up?’

‘Mommy’s made dinner. She told me to get you.’

‘Oh.’ The whole afternoon’s gone by in a blink – it’s already five pm now, the preferred eating time for a four and a half year old. Peter doesn’t mind, he usually has a mid-afternoon snack to feed his fast metabolism but seems to have forgotten about it today. His stomach rumbles in hunger. ‘Thanks – I’ll come right up, okay?’

‘Whatcha doin?’ she asks, studying the slowly spinning holographic image of the mobius strip.

‘Uh- nothing, just school stuff. Homework, you know.’

‘Doesn’t look like homework.’

‘Well, it’s high school homework. It’s different than regular homework.’

Morgan won’t budge, standing with her eyes wide like she can read his mind. Man – when did kids get so perceptive? She’s a Stark, so yeah, she’s bound to be smart, but the way she’s watching him is making Peter decidedly uneasy. It’s like she’s got Wanda’s powers, sifting through his head for the guilt that’s probably written all across his face.

‘Is it an anniversary present? Is that why you don’t want anyone to see?’

‘A… a what?’

‘Anniversary present. Dad made one for mummy,’ she points to the Rescue armour, still dirty with specks of blood and grime on it. Not that Morgan recognises the stains as such. Still, it’s probably best if she doesn’t have any friends over until it’s been cleaned.

‘It’s, uh…’ His heart clenches at the thought of Tony. ‘It’s kind of like that. Yeah, it’s like that. Hey, uh, maybe we could keep this to ourselves?’ He jogs up to her, kneeling down so that they’re on the same level. That’s what you do with little kids, right? ‘It would kinda ruin the surprise if your mum found out about it before it’s finished, yeah?’

‘I guess.’

‘So it’ll be our secret, okay? Promise?’ He offers her his hand – Morgan is very big on pinky promises having just learned about them. She lights up.

‘Promise,’ she shakes their pinkies back and forth, like that’s what seals the deal. Peter breathes a sigh of relief.

‘Thanks, Morgan. You’re the best.’

‘Yeah.’

He turns back to the bench, gathering up his things in case Pepper enters the garage before he can get back. Rummaging through the drawers he’d found half a vial of Pym particles, which is half as much as he needs for just one trip, never mind the one back. But he thinks he’s found another way around the problem.

Scott Lang shared a story about the first time he went into the quantum realm when Peter needed a distraction at the end of the funeral ceremony. There were a lot of odd details that he clung on to – like the disk that Ant-man had switched in his regulator to make himself big, thus escaping the quantum realm. Was that disk containing Pym particles? Perhaps, but Peter can always find a substitute that does the trick. He developed his own web-fluid at fourteen with limited resources after all.

Besides, it doesn’t hurt to try.

The mobius strip has been disassembled with a few wires poking out of the casing for now. He’ll make the final tweaks after dinner.

There’s tattered tarpaulin laying in a heap on the floor, and he grabs his stuff and hides it within the mess, turning around to wink at Morgan to remind her of their secret – only she’s not where she used to be. He spins in a circle, a slight worry growing in his stomach, and he’s always been an only child and there’s been no younger cousins to visit; there’s never been a child that he was directly responsible of. He’s not sure yet how observant he has to be with kids, how long they’re allowed to be on their own.

‘Morgan?’

‘Mm hm,’ a mumble comes from across the room. She’s standing at the outer door now, a slight wind ruffling her hair from outside.

‘What’re you doing?’

‘Just checking,’ she says, transfixed on whatever’s outside. Peter walks up behind her, peering over her shoulder to squint out into the darkening evening.

‘Checking for what?’ His sight is much better than hers, enhanced as it is – there’s nothing outside, just trees and birds and cars, too far away for her to be able to make out.

She doesn’t answer, just stands in the doorway for what must be close to a full minute of silence.

‘Just checking,’ she huffs, disappointed in whatever she didn’t find, and trudges back into the house. He makes sure to close the door for her, hands lingering at the lock wondering if he’s supposed to turn it or not. There’s not many neighbours around to break in, but still. Can’t hurt to take precautions.

‘I think it’s broke,’ Morgan pipes up. She’s standing by the tarpaulin now, holding the disassembled bracelet like it’s a dead bird she found in the forest. ‘I’m sorry, I stepped on it- I didn’t mean to!’

‘It’s okay,’ Peter hurries, ‘it’s supposed to look like that, I was just-’

‘Looks like daddy’s time travel thing.’

_Oh crap._ ‘It- it does? Wow, what a coincidence-’

‘I thought all those were gone. Mommy said they all had to go in the trash so the bad guys couldn’t get them.’

_Crap, this kid’s smarter than she lets on. How does she remember all of that?_ ‘Uh… yeah, so it’s not the same thing – I mean it couldn’t be, ‘cause all those things were destroyed, got it? So it couldn’t be – so it’s not.’

‘Why do you have it?’ Morgan asks suspiciously, eyes flitting between him and the wristband in her hands. She trusts him, but they’ve only known each other for a month and so far, Peter’s only visited twice if you don’t count the funeral. She definitely takes her mother’s word before his and it’s clear she’s been told only the enemy wants to use the mobius strips in secret.

‘I was just- uh, I was- I was gonna… it’s for a gift.’

‘Uh huh.’ Morgan doesn’t look like she buys it.

‘I, uh, lost my aunt’s phone. Yeah, I lost it a week ago – and she got really mad, so I figure I could go back and get it, from where I lost it.’ Wow, that’s a lame excuse, but perhaps it’ll fly with her. She’s four, she knows what it’s like to not want your parents or legal guardian angry, right? Yeah, he nods like he’s convincing himself, it’s gonna work. It’s a good explanation.

‘You gonna go back a week?’

_More like a month._ ‘Yeah. Just to get her phone. That’s not evil, is it? I’m just returning something, making things right.’

She stares, very seriously considering his motives. ‘I lost something too. Can you get it on the way?’

‘Uh… sure, yeah- sure. What did you lose?’

‘Daddy.’

_Oh._ He really should’ve seen that coming he supposes – nevertheless, it knocks the air out of his lungs. How the hell is he to respond to that? _No Morgan, I can’t do that ‘cause then you’d get all hopeful and if I fail you’d be ruined. So I’m gonna lie to you and say I can’t, that I won’t, but in reality I’m gonna, even though I’m not sure yet if it’ll screw up our future and split time itself or whatever. So I can’t tell you I’m gonna get your dad – but I will, I promise. Whatever it takes._

His actual answer is way less eloquent than that. It goes something like, ‘Um…’ and that’s about as much as he gets out before it happens.

‘Please Pete,’ Morgan begs softly, then her brow furrows – the wristband’s acting up in her hand, vibrating at an ill-boding frequency that Peter can faintly hear. Another thing Scott Lang mentioned at the funeral was how he almost fried his suit on the way back because mixing with the regulator caused it to almost malfunction which mr Pym claimed could’ve levelled all of San Francisco if handled incorrectly. There’d been a bright light in Cassie’s room that night, just like the one shining in Morgan’s hand.

‘Shi-’

He’s three steps away from her but it’s too far. The light explodes and she’s slipping through his fingers, and he doesn’t know where she is but there’s a crack in the air, like a jagged hole in the fabric of space and time and Peter runs to his workbench, snapping the half-assembled web-shooters on whilst pressing a button and praying mr Stark’s made him another suit. Something cold and fresh-smelling envelops him and he doesn’t waste a moment to admire the attire before jumping right into the centre of the light.

‘Morgan!’ he roars as he’s sucked into the eye of the storm.

He’s shrinking. How that’s possible without a quantum realm suit, he doesn’t know. Maybe he triggered something in the wristband when he cut it open, maybe he caused it to malfunction and cause a rip in reality. Maybe it’s like a black hole drawing them in, the Pym particles making them smaller. Whatever the reason, he’s shrinking, and he’s doing it fast and it feels like someone’s squeezing him and soon he’s gonna break, like the oranges May presses into juice for a luxurious breakfast.

‘Morgan, can you- can you hear- _agh!_ ’ His head is splitting apart, a sharp pain gnawing at his skull and out into his entire body.

‘Pete!’ A small hand finds him, fingers gracing against his and he fumbles to hold onto the little person floating beside him. In a rare moment of luck, she’s gotten the mobius strip to develop into a full suit – thank god. They’re tumbling through tunnels now, thrown back and forth by an unseen wind, completely at the mercy of whatever elements exist down here.

‘Hold on-’ he screams, nails digging through the layers of fabric and armour until he’s sure she’s not going anywhere. If he loses her here- no, he _can’t_ lose her, he _won’t_. Wherever they end up, they’ll be together, even if it is the last thing he’ll do. He’s not leaving a four year old alone wherever they end up – if they even make it to the other side.

The pressure releases around his head and they crash down against solid ground. The first thing Peter thinks is _hey, we didn’t die!_ Then, _wait, we just trave_ _l_ _led through time. Did we just travel through time?_ _Where are we?_ He lands on one, solid conclusion; he is so, so screwed.

‘Oh shit. Oh, oh fuck.’ They’re lost somewhere. His head’s still exploding, white spots dancing across his vision but beyond it he sees asphalt. The mask retracts from around his face and he breathes warm air – a familiar atmosphere, perhaps even Earth’s. Please, _please_ let them still be on Earth.

‘Pete? Did- did it work?’ Morgan stutters, ‘Did we bring back dad?

‘Kids! What- how are you-?’

His head snaps up, making him groan in pain, hissing out curses under his breath so that young miss Stark won’t hear. When he regains his senses somewhat, he notes that a large man is kneeling over them.

That’s Captain America, in what looks like his original, vintage outfit. And beyond him is an alley and old-fashioned cars and people and some kind of big city that actually has clean air – they’re in the past. _Oh shit, shit shit shit, oh god-_ They’re not supposed to meet Steve Rogers in the forties. Will the Captain remember them? Will this change the future? Funny how Peter didn’t mind the idea of doing that just a few minutes ago, and now he’s utterly terrified of the possibility. He can’t even let himself get stuck on the awesome yet terrifying fact that they’ve _travelled through time._

‘How did you even get that?’ Steve asks, panting like he’s just fallen through time and space along with them. He’s pointing at Morgan’s bracelet, now spewing the occasional spark. Malfunctioning. _Shit_ – what was that mr Pym had said? That it had the capability of levelling a city?

‘Here, Morgan- we gotta- gotta get that off you!’ He almost rips it away from her narrow wrist, throwing the mobius strip down the alleyway as far away as he can whilst still reeling from having his head squeezed down to the size of an atom – no, _smaller._

‘Where’s dad?’ she asks, trembling like a leaf. ‘You said we’d get him back.’

‘You- you’re here for Tony?’ the Captain asks, grabbing a gentle hold of both Peter and Morgan’s arms. Parker realises, suddenly, that mr Rogers knows who they are.

‘Wait- you’re from our time? You- you know us?’

‘Yeah, I… I was returning the stones. What the _hell-_ heck,’ he adds, glancing over at the small child, ‘are _you_ doing here?’

‘We’re getting daddy,’ Morgan mumbles. Her hands are still balled into fists, still clinging onto Peter for dear life. Mr Rogers looks over at the teen, gaping like he thinks Peter’s dragged her into this as an accomplice in a planned time heist.

‘It was an accident,’ he says weakly. ‘I- I didn’t mean to- the wristband malfunctioned, I was just- just adjusting it. She wasn’t supposed to…’ And here he thought he’d already given his worst excuse of the day. Apparently he hadn’t, but by some miracle, Steve seems to believe him.

‘Okay,’ he nods, trying to comprehend everything, ‘It’s okay. We’ll get this sorted out, all right? Are you hurt, either of you?’

‘No,’ Peter grits out through his teeth. It’s a terrible lie. Morgan just stares blankly, too worked up to answer.

‘Where does it hurt?’

‘H-head. Just- give me a minute, it’ll be fine.’ At least he hopes so.

The soldier examines the younger child, careful not to spook her. ‘My name’s Steve, do you remember me? I was at the funeral. I’m- I was a friend of your father.’

‘Okay,’ she whispers.

‘I- I’ve got something, hold on, wait here. I’m going to get something that might help us, okay?’

Peter’s quite certain there’s nothing that can really get them out of this mess – they’re stuck in the past, for god’s sake, and mr Rogers doesn’t have an extra suit to spare. _We’re never gonna get back. It’s my fault. Oh my god, I got Morgan into all of this. She’s gonna be stuck here forever. Am I having a panic attack? Is this what a panic attack feels like?_ _It’s never been like this before._ _This is worse._

Strangely, since he’s gone through many traumas in his short life, he’s never gotten to this breaking point. The closest he got was being trapped under a building and even then he’d pulled himself together. After Tony died he’d had a similar fit, but it hadn’t felt like this, never like this. There was hope, a stolen mobius strip. What hope is there now?

_Deep breaths, kiddo,_ a familiar voice pipes up at the back of his head. He forces himself to follow the instruction until he’s calmer, until the world stops spinning and the nausea fades. Only then does he realise that it sounded just like mr Stark.

‘I got this from a friend,’ Steve says, kneeling down before them again. He’s carrying a brown box, quickly shedding it of its wrapping. ‘She – it’s a long story, but I think she might have known that something like this was going to happen. She told me whatever’s in here was going to help me in the future.’

‘Okay,’ Peter says, as if that makes perfect sense. It’s his first time travelling adventure, he doesn’t know how things work yet. Is it normal to get mysterious, brown boxes from people claiming to know your future? Is that, like, a standard thing? Should he be concerned or relieved?

Cap rips the lid open, staring down at its contents for a moment.

‘What is it?’

‘It’s another box,’ mr Rogers says, confused, ‘and a letter. It’s… it says _open in the presence of Morgan and Peter._ ’

‘Okay. Well… uh, we’re here.’

‘Yeah,’ Steve shakes off his shock and tears through the yellowed envelope. There’s just a short note inside – two paragraphs that Peter can kind of make out from the sun shining through the page. The soldier’s a faster reader than him, though, and he eyes through it quickly before shoving it into the box again, tying the string around it and leaving the smaller box unopened inside.

‘What did it say?’

‘She said she knew this would happen, and to sit tight. There was an address and a name for us to seek out – it’s supposed to be down the street from here. You can get some medical attention once we’re there.’ The Captain stops, voice stilted and cool like he’s giving orders. He softens, swallowing, ‘We’re going to be fine, okay? I’ll figure this out. Can you two walk?’

‘I think so,’ Peter says, slowly getting up and wincing as the blood rushes down into his legs leaving him light-headed. Steve catches him as he stumbles, forcing the teen’s arm over his inhumanly broad shoulders.

‘It’s all right, I’ll help you. Okay?’

‘Yeah. Yeah, it’s fine. Morgan, can you walk?’

‘I’m tired,’ she says, teary eyed. ‘And hungry. Mummy was making dinner. Where is she?’

‘It’s all right, kid,’ mr Rogers assures her. He picks her up with the arm that isn’t busy with Peter, somehow managing to juggle both her and his box with one hand. ‘We’re gonna get you back to your mum soon. We’re gonna go get help.’

‘Where are we going?’ Parker almost slurs, fighting to stay alert and, embarrassingly enough, awake. Time travel sucks. He really thinks he might throw up, any second now.

‘Auerbach Theatrical Agency, it seems.’ Steve barely brakes a sweat under the weight of the two kids. ‘Apparently there’s a man named Sousa there who’ll be able to sort us out.’

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> O.o we're getting somewhere! I know I said I'd update every five days but I just couldn't wait, haha :3 Also, I've updated some of the tags - I'm going to be adding more characters/tropes to them as the story goes on but I don't want to spoil anything right now ,:)


	3. Chapter 3

Half carrying a teenager who’s about to pass out at any given moment and a toddler who looks like she’s seen a ghost, all whilst wearing the bright red, white and blue of his Captain America suit is not inconspicuous, to say the least. People turn and point as they make their way down the street and Steve knows they have to disappear before this ends up on the front page of tomorrow’s newspaper. Luckily, the barely legible _Auerbach Theatrical Agency_ sign is nearing, and the window panes are closed. They sorely need some discretion.

A bell jingles when he shoulders the door open, careful not to bang Morgan’s head against it. He has to essentially drag Peter inside before he can dispose of the boy on a chair. The poor kid groans, clutching his head in his hands, closing his eyes hard enough to scrunch up the rest of the face.

They are in what looks like a waiting room lined with chairs leaving an empty, wide space in the middle. There’s a reception desk at the back, behind which a stunned, red-haired woman sits. A half-eaten bagel lies at a plate to her left, a stationary phone on her right.

‘Uh… hello,’ she says.

‘Are you Sousa?’ Steve asks whilst studying Morgan intently. She didn’t say if she was hurt, but it doesn’t seem so. Shock is probably the main issue with her. Her fists are holding onto the fabric of his suit so he lets her stay in his arms, hoping the rise and fall of his chest against hers serves as reassurance.

‘Uh, no,’ the redhead answers. ‘My name is Rose. Are- are you… dressed as Captain America?’

‘I really need to speak to Sousa. The kid’s hurt, he needs medical attention.’ He hopes, intently, that this Sousa is a doctor of some kind. The woman doesn’t budge.

‘…There’s no Sousa here. Didn’t you- are you a look-alike? Captain America died two years ago.’

‘I know,’ Steve sighs, feeling Morgan’s fluttering, frightened heartbeat through her dress. They need a safe place to calm down and catch up with everything that’s happened and they need it now. He searches through his memory of the letter, looking for some useful detail. There wasn’t much beyond the address, the instructions to contact Sousa and, through him, Peggy. And then the cryptic message at the end: _don’t open the next box until absolutely necessary._

‘I… Peggy sent us,’ Rogers tries, desperate to get Rose on their side. He can only hope that the name bears some meaning for her as well.

‘Peggy Carter?’ she asks, even more confused now if that’s possible.

‘Yeah – Peggy Carter. She’s-’ _the love of my life_ sounds a bit much, so he clamps his mouth shut before he can say it aloud. ‘A friend,’ he decides on instead. ‘Please. We just need to see Sousa. And… and I need to call her.’

Rose slowly lifts the telephone to her ear, never breaking eye-contact. ‘Just wait a moment, please.’

He gets the impression that she doesn’t want him to overhear whatever she’s about to say next, so he turns around, sitting down next to Peter with Morgan in his lap.

‘Oh god,’ Parker breathes. ‘Is this really… are we in the past?’

‘Yes. 1947 to be exact, so… it’s after the war, at least.’ Small victories.

‘This is all my fault. I should’ve been… careful. More. Morgan, she’s… I’m sorry, Morgan. I’m sorry I got you into this mess.’

The girl squirms on Steve’s thighs, one hand wrapping the hem of her dress tightly around the other. He lays one arm behind her back so that she doesn’t fall off.

‘It’s okay, Peter. We’re going to sort this out.’ The Captain pushes his frustration out of the way – this isn’t the time for a lecture on the dangers of time travel. Morgan’s words echo back through his head. _We’re getting daddy back._ That’s exactly why they agreed to destroy their collection of mobius strips – it’s too much of a temptation. As much as he hates Thanos, despises him, Steve gets why the titan got rid of the infinity stones. With the power to undo anything and reshape the world to their will, how would they ever know when to stop?

But no, the boy already looks regretful enough. Their priorities are first and foremost to get the kids back home and that’s going to be a challenge in itself.

_The mobius strip,_ he realises, _we left Morgan’s in the alley._

‘Chief Sousa is on his way,’ Rose announces from behind her desk. She lays the phone down on its stand with a certain finality. _Chief Sousa?_

‘Thank you,’ Rogers says earnestly. She nods, still wary of him, but softening it seems, for the sake of Morgan.

The minutes tick on, courtesy of a loud clock by the door. It’s almost as if it’s accusing them for staying with each movement of its hands. Chief Sousa… perhaps the theatrical agency isn’t at all what it looks like from the outside.

There’s a corridor leading further into the building close to where Rose is sitting and Steve hears a scraping sound, like a heavy door opening, coming from it. Peter groans at the sharp but low noise, clamping his hands over his ears to shut it out. It isn’t long after that a man arrives in the waiting room. He wears a light grey, three piece suit that must be unbearably hot and he’s limping in on a crutch. The man nods to Rose before turning to the visitors.

Steve stands up, slowly manoeuvring Morgan to sit on his hip and freeing his right hand from both her and the box.

‘You must be Sousa.’

‘Yes,’ Sousa answers, shaking his hand. ‘And you are…?’

‘Steve.’

‘Wow,’ he laughs without humour, ‘you’re really taking this costume to the next level, aren’t you?’

‘Look,’ Rogers sighs, ‘I don’t need you to believe me, but what I do need is some help for these kids. They’ve been through a lot and I… you’re a friend of Peggy’s. I didn’t know where else to go.’

‘Peggy Carter?’ the chief asks, just like Rose had, recognition flitting across his face.

‘Yes. Please, these kids need help – that’s all I ask. And, if it’s not too much, to use your phone.’

Sousa regards the unlikely trio for awhile, looking from the distressed Morgan to Peter in his spider-suit, still emitting small yelps of pain. He nods.

‘Okay. I’ll lead you to my office – we’ll get a bag of ice for the boy and a glass of water for each of you. But you’ll understand if I have to ask some questions.’

‘Thank you.’ Steve hoists Morgan higher on his hip, helping Peter to stand again. Questions he can deal with – either by lying or lightly obscuring the truth. He’s not sure yet how much their presence is going to change the past but he’s dead-set on keeping the damage to as minimal as possible. He spends the entire walk to the aforementioned office pondering over the story he’s going to have to give.

Sousa leads them through a doorway between two filing cabinets – a hidden one, Rogers wagers. It’s becoming increasingly clear that Auerbach’s holds more than one secret. Beyond that there’s a stairway and a second floor bustling with activity. People are jogging to and fro, some with papers in hand and most of them men. They’re all wearing suits though some have foregone their jackets, leaving their collars unbuttoned and their ties loose. The floor’s flooded with sunlight seeping in through large windows and about twenty degrees hotter than the waiting room. A mixture of smells, ranging from coffee to sweat, linger in the air.

Men stop in their tracks as they pass. As soon as the chief leads them into an open space consisting of desks and a large cork notice board, upon which is pinned several photos depicting clues in what seems to be a murder case, everything quiets. Conversation pauses, workers looking up from whatever they were doing to gape.

‘Chief,’ one of them says when Steve has lead Peter about halfway into the room, ‘Is that… Captain America?’

Sousa stops, noting the silence of the room. ‘I don’t know yet. But I intend to find out.’ He glances back at his guests, a puzzled expression coming over his face. ‘Edwards, go get an ice-pack. Everyone else, get back to work – all of you. Captain, if you would…’

He holds the door marked _Chief Daniel Sousa_ open and Steve nods gratefully as he takes the kids inside and away from prying eyes. There are two seats across from the large, sturdy desk which must be Sousa’s. It’s littered with framed photographs, papers, pens and other knick knacks. Though, he must say, it’s decidedly neat despite those facts. Even the four loose, brown pebbles seem to have their designated place two inches away from a coffee cup.

Peter doesn’t take a chair this time. Instead, he sits down on the floor, rubbing his eyes tiredly. Morgan shuffles out of Steve’s grasp and sits down beside the boy, mimicking the way his elbows rest on the knees to support his chin.

‘There’s chairs for a reason,’ Sousa quips, raising an eyebrow, ‘I can get another one if you’re worried not everyone’s gonna have a seat.’

‘I’m fine,’ Parker says. ‘How ‘bout you, Morgan? Don’t you wanna sit?’

‘Nah.’

Rogers decides to take up the offer, resting his back against surprisingly cool wood. He places the box on the floor by his feet. The chief sits down in his usual seat, a more lux, padded leather.

‘How about we introduce ourselves first. I’m chief Sousa, as you’re aware.’

‘I’m Peter,’ the kid says, eyes fixed on the floor.

‘Morgan,’ the girl mumbles.

‘You said Peggy sent you?’

Steve considers this. He needs to call Peggy, get her here as per both the letter and his heart’s request, but she won’t, of course, know of his presence. She doesn’t even think he’s alive at this point.

‘Not exactly sent us, but… I know you are a friend of hers.’ Sousa doesn’t look struck at the statement so it must be true. ‘And I trust anyone she trusts.’

‘How did you know how to find me? Actually, no, let’s start with who you are.’ The chief narrows his eyes. ‘I have to admit, I don’t much believe in ghosts, but you look very familiar. I used to go to the pictures in my spare-time. That suit’s not hard to replicate, but the face… Are you a lookalike?’

That’s the other thing he has to tread carefully around. The older Peg, she said he could choose. Whether to stay or whether to just pop by for tea. And in either case, he’s going to have to tell her that he survived that fateful crash into the Arctic. If she trusts Sousa, it’s plausible he can keep a secret – as can any decent man of the law.

Steve didn’t miss the large SSR plaque in the room outside this one.

‘Chief?’ The door opens, revealing one of the agents from outside – Edwards – holding a pack of ice dripping with condensation. Peter grimaces as he stands up, mutely accepting the ice for his head. Edwards watches him, confused, as the boy slides down the wall again.

‘Thank you Jim, you’re excused now.’

‘Okay chief…’

The Captain waits until they’re alone again before leaning forward, ready to spill part of the truth.

‘When I crashed the Valkyrie into the Arctic, I didn’t die. I blacked out, though. The ice preserved my body and kept me asleep until I was rescued and thawed. These kids…’ He tilts his head towards them, ‘They’re my friend’s, and they’re a long way from home. An accident brought them here. I need Peggy’s help getting them back.’ _And to tell her I love her._

Sousa mulls over the story, face blank. ‘Well, if you aren’t Captain America, you sure are a good impersonator. Still. I’ll need more than your word to believe it.’

‘Peggy will recognise me – I mean, there isn’t anyone else around here who’s actually met me, is there?’

‘No, there isn’t. But Peggy Carter works in our New York division.’

A pang of hurt seizes Steve’s chest. The other end of the country… they’re so close, closer than ever, but still a world apart.

‘I could call her. Just… let me talk to her.’ His voice turns to pleading at the end. Dust is dancing lazily in rays of light coming in through the window. They settle on Sousa’s desk.

‘Fine. I don’t suppose we’ll make much progress otherwise.’ The chief nods curtly before lifting the handset on his telephone. ‘Either you’re him and you’re alive, or we have one hell of a mole.’

‘I need to pee.’

Rogers turns around – Morgan’s still sitting next to Peter, scrunching up wrinkles in her green summer-dress.

‘Oh. Is there a restroom…?’

‘Yeah,’ Sousa says, handset hovering just a few inches away from his ear. He clears his throat. ‘The women’s is down the hall to the left.’

‘I’ll go with her.’ Parker stands up, letting the ice fall to the floor. He shakes droplets of water out of his hair. ‘I mean, not inside, but… I’ll make sure she’s okay.’

‘You sure?’ Steve asks, relieved at the nod he receives. Truth to be told, he doesn’t know what it’ll be like to speak to Peggy again, especially a Peggy who can’t be sure it’s truly him. He wants to be strong for the kids’ sakes, but there’s nerves at the pit of his stomach and they’re eating him up.

‘We’ll be right back. Come on, Morgan.’ Peter takes her tiny hand in his and walks, surprisingly easily, out the room. Perhaps the ice helped, perhaps it’s his enhanced healing. Perhaps he too wishes to be strong for the little one. They close the door behind them, leaving the room in silence – Sousa thankfully doesn’t own an obnoxious clock like Rose.

He runs his fingers through the dials and waits for five beats until someone picks up on the other end.

‘Hey. Yeah, it’s me – actually, it’s chief Sousa now. I need Peggy on the phone.’ A voice on the other end starts to talk but the chief interrupts them – him? – before he can get any further. ‘No, Jack, it’s for work. It’s important, just put her on the phone would you?’

Steve picks at a chipped nail. He should think about what he’s going to say but his mind is stuck in a blank state of waiting.

‘Hi,’ Sousa says and his eyes turn softer. ‘I didn’t mean to disturb you, but I’ve got a guy in my office claiming to be Captain America and he’s making a pretty good case. He wants to speak to you.’ He looks down at his lap. ‘I know, I know how it sounds. Trust me, I wouldn’t call you if I wasn’t damn near convinced myself. I thought about getting Stark down here, but after last year I doubt he’d listen to anything I say.’

The Captain starts at the name. Not Tony, Howard Stark, who’d been Rogers’ ally long before the man’s son had taken over that role. He doesn’t have time to recover from remembering everyone else who are also alive right at this moment – the Howling Commandos, a younger, tortured Bucky suffering in Hydra’s grip – before Sousa is giving him the phone.

Steve stands and holds the handset gingerly, afraid he might break it.

‘Hello?’ Peggy’s voice sounds on the other end. It’s a brisk _hello,_ like she has better things to do, like she expects him to be a con artist pretending to be Captain America for a few spare quarters of change. It’s the no bullshit tone she’d take with Howard and, occasionally, him when he wasn’t on his best behaviour during the war. Steve turns as far as he can, like it’s a private conversation and there isn’t anyone else in the room. Just him and her.

‘Hi, Peg.’

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I got a lot of comments on the last chapter and I'm so grateful for them! Thank you all so much :3 you guys warm my heart <3 Next chapter should be up around Thursday!


	4. Chapter 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> it's thursday my dudes! :3

‘It’s me. I- I know this is… sudden. But-’

‘Whoever you are,’ Peggy says in a detached tone of voice, ‘I beg you not to waste another moment of chief Sousa’s time. He’s a busy man and you have _no_ right to imitate a dead war hero.’

Steve coughs around the lump in his throat. ‘I’m sorry I missed our dance.’

There comes no quick retort this time. Only a hesitant, guarded,

‘What?’

‘You said the Stork club. Eight pm sharp. I’m sorry I’m late – I didn’t mean to be.’ It’s been a decade but he still carries the crisp memory of waking up to realise just how long he’d slept, how much he’d lost. It’s been a lifetime since they had that phone call; it feels like yesterday that he lost her.

‘How do you know about that?’

‘It’s me, Peggy. I still don’t know how to dance, but I’ll try not to step on your toes.’ He feels a tear slide down one cheek and lets it be. He’s wanted this for eleven long years. There’s no denying how much speaking to her means to him. She has to believe him – she _has to._

‘Would you put chief Sousa back on the phone?’

He draws in a sharp breath – but no, she’s right, she can’t know it’s him like this. It’s nobody’s fault, it just… is. So he nods, even though she can’t see it.

‘Okay.’ Steve turns back to Sousa who, as he’d suspected, has been watching him. The chief quickly fumbles with some paper as if to prove he’s been busy. ‘She wants to speak to you.’

‘Hey.’ Daniel casts another glance at Steve, most likely at the tears that linger. The Captain sits down and wipes them away, resigned. ‘No, it’s okay- all right. Yeah, okay. I will. Have a safe trip.’

Sousa hangs up the phone, leaning forwards on his desk.

‘So… what did she say?’

‘She says you’ve either got a hold of some supposedly destroyed recordings of confidential material, which makes you a dangerous criminal. Or…’

‘Or it’s me,’ Rogers crosses his arms. Hope is brewing within him once more. ‘You said safe trip?’

‘Yes, she insisted on coming down here.’ Sousa’s forehead folds together into a sullen frown. ‘I’m still going to try and get a hold of Howard Stark. If you’re an imposter, he’ll know it – and agent Carter’s probably going to catch a late flight, so there’s still time for me to stop her.’

Howard Stark. Morgan’s grandfather. Luckily in this case, Morgan hasn’t met Howard and so she won’t recognise him. And, if he doesn’t flaunt his last name too much, she never has to find out who he is. Peter’s older, he can keep a secret. They should be all right.

‘Okay,’ Steve submits. ‘I’m guessing you’ll want us to wait in an interrogation room?’

‘Until I know who you really are – yes.’ Sousa turns concerned, ‘But, the kids, you said they are lost? This friend of yours, their parent, can I call him?’

‘No, he’s… he’s dead.’

‘Oh,’ the chief says. ‘Well, is there anyone else, then? Who are they staying with?’

Steve shakes his head vehemently, ‘No, it’s just me and them right now. The kids stay with me. I’ll answer all of your questions, I’ll spend the night in the interrogation room or a cell of your choosing, but they stay with me.’

‘All right then,’ Sousa says, raising his hands in surrender, ‘It’s gonna be uncomfortable, but I think we could get a few blankets, maybe a pillow or two.’

‘Thank you.’

‘Rose is probably going to make dinner, at least for the kids,’ he mutters. ‘Speaking of which – shouldn’t they be back by now?’

‘Yeah,’ Rogers frowns, ‘they should be. Maybe they got lost?’

‘I’ll ask one of my colleagues.’ Daniel rises from his chair, grabbing the crutch on his way up. Though his limp is ever-present, it doesn’t slow him down much. The chief opens the door half way, leaning out into the office landscape to shout, ‘Has anyone seen- oh, hello.’

When he steps aside, the small figure of Morgan is revealed. She looks like she’s been waiting for awhile.

‘Hey – where’s your brother?’ Sousa makes a painstaking effort of kneeling before her so that they can look each other in the eye.

‘Did Peter go somewhere?’ Steve asks. For an unknown reason, he can’t shake a bad feeling about the teen’s absence.

‘He was gonna get something.’ Morgan blinks innocently, grabbing a fistful of hair that’s fallen into her face.

‘Where did he go?’ Sousa asks. The Captain stands, sighing inwardly. _Oh no._

She wipes her nose. ‘He was gonna get mommy’s anniversary present.’

  
  


* * *

  
  


‘Did you wash your hands?’ Peter asks once she comes out again. He’d wanted to go in with her, make sure she’s got everything under control, but entering a women’s restroom – in the forties, no less – was probably going to cause a ruckus. He’s surprised that she’s finished up so quickly on her own.

‘I couldn’t reach the sink.’

‘Oh. Well, uh… did you do number one or number two?’

‘I only peed,’ she says, socked feet shuffling over the dusty floor. Peter hopes they’ll get back home as quickly as possible but, if not, she’s going to need some shoes.

‘Okay. I guess it’s okay then.’ Still, he can’t help but feel it’s a little gross when she grabs his hand to walk back to the office.

‘Hey, Morgan- wait a minute.’ He crouches down to her level. Truth to be told, he might’ve overacted how hurt he was before. The headache has faded to dull throbbing and he’s been able to walk straight since they ascended the stairs. There’s something he needs to do, though, and he doesn’t think mr Rogers is going to like it very much.

‘What?’ she asks. God, lying sucks. They may not have known each other for more than a month, but there’s nothing he wouldn’t do for her.

‘I need to go get something. You remember how we left the- the, uh, bracelet in the alley? I’m just gonna get it. Do you think you can find your way back to Steve?’

‘Uh huh,’ she says, giving him that blank kid-stare that doesn’t reveal an ounce of what she’s actually thinking. The next moment Morgan is walking down the busy hallway, crossing through surprised agents that look at her like she’s an alien.

Peter waits until he can see her stand outside Sousa’s office – he has to make sure she’s safe. Then, he sneaks down the stairs.

Well, to be honest, it isn’t much like sneaking when everyone he meets on his way levels him with the same look Morgan got. The Spider-man suit definitely stands out among dull shades of grey, beige and maroon. He’s swift, though, sprinting forwards as he sees the secret entrance closing. Secret entrance – that’s awesome, if not a little inconvenient. Oh well. He’ll figure out how to get back in later.

Peter just about makes it through the narrowing gap, continuing to run as he hears voices shout behind him. He can’t really blame them. The lady in the waiting room asks him something but he’s already at the door when she’s done – he can’t stop now, he’s too deep in.

His head begins to pound, more and more with each step he takes and he still doesn’t stop.

He does wish it had happened some other way. That Morgan hadn’t come as well, that they weren’t stuck here. But, now that they are here, they’ve got to work with what they have. Currently, that isn’t much more than a broken time travelling bracelet that he left in an alley like the idiot he is.

 _Please let it still be there,_ he thinks as he takes a sharp left and stops, searching frantically. The headache catches up with him, banging like a hammer on his skull. _Ah, I don’t have time for this._ There’s a collection of bins, a homeless guy that seems to be asleep – or dead, he’ll have to check up on that – and scattered pages from the _Los Angeles Daily Times_. The wind blows them past him and out into the road.

 _Okay. Okay, if I was a broken mobius-strip-slash-_ _wristband_ _-slash-time-travel-suit, where would I be?_ The ground looks empty at first glance, _maybe someone put it in the trash?_ He digs through the bins like a beggar, frantically emptying out more newspapers and discarded apple cores onto the ground. He’s on his third trash can when he catches a glint of metal in the corner of his eye.

A magpie is sitting near the bracelet, picking at the wires.

‘Hey!’ Peter shouts, ‘Shoo!’

The bird shrugs its wings, annoyed, and picks the mobius strip up in its beak before setting off. _No no no!_ He presses down on his web-shooters but it doesn’t seem like mr Stark ever put in new cartridges. Praying to Aunt May for forgiveness, he lifts the discarded notebook he was just about to dig out of the trash and shucks it at the bird. It hits the target head on, making the magpie falter and drop its price.

The bird dives down to retrieve the wristband. Peter grabs a hold of the wall, using it as leverage to pull himself up and into the air, snatching the mobius strip a second before the magpie can get to it. He front flips down onto the ground again, black spots taking over his vision. Time travel without the compatible suit clearly does nothing good for your health.

 _Phew!_ _That was close._

Glass clinking against glass catches his attention. The homeless man is evidently not dead. He’s rubbing his eyes, blinking like he can’t fathom what he’s just seen. There’s two empty bottles of something – probably beer – in his lap.

‘Hey,’ Peter says awkwardly, ‘uh… this is all a dream. Yeah, a dream. Don’t worry, though, it’s a good dream. Yeah – probably. Yeah.’ He starts to back away, shooting the man a nervous smile before he’s running again.

He grabs a pair of surprisingly clean-smelling shoes from the garbage. They look child-sized, so if worst comes to worst and he flunks what he’s about to do, Morgan will at least have the option of walking without cutting her feet open. Peter holds his things in one hand, sticking to the wall with the other and throwing himself up onto the roof. It’s strange, he’s so used to leaping from skyscraper to skyscraper. These houses can’t be more than a few floors high.

The teen’s fast, taking the gaps between buildings one leap at a time. Even though he’s significantly closer to the ground than he usually is, no one’s going to be quick enough to see him – and if they do, they won’t believe their eyes. They’re far enough in the past that there are no cellphones, so no pics of him will be trending on twitter.

Steve said 1947. It feels like an old, black and white movie with the exception of its vibrant colours. _God, this is weird. I never thought the past was going to be so… normal._

The descent from the rooftops is a different story though. He opts for a fire escape, just in case someone might be looking. Then he ducks into a different alley, a shadier, don't-go-there-alone-at-night-time kind. It’s empty – for now.

‘Okay,’ he says to no one in particular. ‘Okay, okay, what next?’

Fix it. He has to fix the wristband, carefully enough so that he doesn’t blow up whatever city they’re in – LA judging by the newspapers. Easy enough, right?

As soon as he really stops, allows himself to catch his breath, a splitting pain hits his head like lightning. He crumbles to the ground, breathing hard, _god, okay, no more running today._ Peter once, at the ripe age of seven or eight, re-broke his leg when he started running on it before he was allowed to. He’s never had the patience for letting his body heal – not even now that the healing is significantly faster.

 _This really isn’t the time._ The headache subsides into throbbing again, more prominent this time around as if it’s warning him not to exhaust himself. He can work with that.

The wristband, upon further examination, is slightly charred. It must have burned through a few circuits when it malfunctioned. He’s positive he could replace what needs to be replaced if he had some time and the right components, the only problem is, as long as the mobius strip isn’t working, he has neither. He’s stuck until he fixes it, and he can’t fix it when he’s stuck.

‘Shit.’

But – when he has fixed it, he can go forward in time, get everything he needs and drop it off in his past. Slightly paradox-al, sure, but it could work – yeah, he just needs to settle on a spot. The clock back in the waiting room said 3:30 pm last he saw it and that was a while back. So. He closes his eyes, as if that would make any difference whatsoever, and makes a promise; _I’ll get whatever I need and return to this day, 3:30 pm, and drop it off behind those trash cans over there._ When he opens his eyes, he has to restrain himself from running towards said garbage lest the headache return its intensity.

Peter rounds the pile of trash, a smile creeping up on his face. There’s nothing there. He kicks at the bins, moving them aside, looking under them, in them, around them – there’s nothing there. Movie paradoxes, apparently, don’t work in real life.

‘Oh, come on!’ Frustrated, he kicks at the metal side of one of the trash cans, hard enough to make a dent as well as send it flying into the nearest building. _No, no dammit, you’re smarter than this. Tony Stark built_ _the Ir_ _on Man_ _armour_ _out of scraps in captivity. He had a gun to his head. If he can do that, you can fix up a god-damn bracelet._

Except he can’t. Even if he does fix it, he doesn’t have any more Pym particles and Hank Pym didn’t look old enough to be more than ten at this point in time. Unless he’s the brightest child genius in history, he can’t have discovered a new particle yet. If he was, or is, Peter’s science nerd of a Physics teacher would’ve had him hung up on her wall of fame.

 _Okay then._ I’ll _discover the Pym particle. Can’t be that hard, can it?_ His optimism is dwindling, as is his energy and he slides down a dirty brick wall next to the overturned trash cans. _God. I’ve gone from friendly neighbourhood Spider-man to soldier-in-the-greatest-war-ever-to-take-place, and now I’m a dum_ _p_ _ster diver. Or a petty enemy of garbage men._ He doesn’t know which sounds worse.

 _Okay. Okay, what have I got left?_ He’s still in the past. Tony isn’t alive, but that’s because he hasn’t been born yet. So he isn’t dead per see, which means there’s still time to change his fate. But what can Peter do from the 20th century?

Kill Thanos?

It took about a thousand enhanced or otherwise super individuals to turn that guy to dust. He’d would just end up dying all over again.

Peter can still taste ash on his tongue. There wasn’t much time after Strange woke him up, claiming they’d been gone for five years, to really process everything that happened on Titan. There hasn’t been much time to think about the fact he actually _died_ in mr Stark’s arms only to wake up again and be totally fine. In some ways it didn’t feel like dying but more like being being forced under by some ridiculously strong sedative. And still, at the same time, he remembers the panic, scrambling for some last thing to hold onto and finding nothing.

Nothing.

He might not have died in the traditional way, but he did, in fact, die. As did half of humanity, half of the universe. And that scares the shit out of him.

 _Peter,_ a voice calls from the back of his head, the part that hurts the least.

‘Go away,’ he mutters, pressing his palms into stinging eyes.

_Peter, breathe with me._

‘You can’t breathe. You’re… dead.’

_Stop being a smart-ass and breathe, kiddo. Come on now – that’s it, in and hold it, and out again. Nice and slow. Breathe with me._

‘I’m gonna save you.’

_Breathe._

‘I- I promise. I will. Whatever it takes.’

_Just breathe._

He counts to five before releasing the air back into the atmosphere. Just like that Sousa guy he doesn’t believe much in ghosts, but if there are any it seems mr Stark’s has come back to make sure he’s okay. That’s pretty weird. If Peter was a ghost, he’d haunt Flash, write Ned messages on the whiteboard in his room and mess with MJ when she’s in class. If Peter was in Tony’s shoes, he’d watch over Morgan, not the kid from Queens who tried but couldn’t save him. The prodigy, not the failure.

‘Tony,’ Peter tries, ‘what do I do now?’

There’s no answer this time, no voice at the back of his head. There’s not even a mysterious wind that blows past him with a presence from the beyond. Ghosts aren’t real, but if they were, mr Stark’s would be watching over Morgan, just like Peter should be.

_Oh shit. I left her. She doesn’t know Steve all that well, I’m the one who’s supposed to take care of her, I’m the one who got her here! And I left her. Oh god. I’m such an idiot!_

The Captain’s probably quite mad at Peter right now, but if he has to withstand a scolding in order to do Morgan right, he will. It’s his duty.

He picks himself up, walking slowly in respect of his aching head. He has to take care of himself if he’s to care for Morgan, he can’t push himself to the breaking point when she needs him. She’s four and a half and her mother’s not even born yet. The kid must be so, so scared. And hungry. She said she was hungry before, so maybe Peter can sneak by a restaurant, see if they have any leftovers since he hasn’t got a dime on him. Maybe then, when he comes back with his tail between his legs, she’ll find it easier to forgive him.

Pepper once said that she and Tony had talked about him. That if he’d been alive when Morgan was born, Rhodey would be her godfather as well as uncle, and he her godbrother.

He thinks long and hard on this. So long and hard, in fact, that he misses the right turn of the pavement and wanders out in front of an oncoming vehicle. There’s a loud bang as the front gains a fresh dent and Peter’s knocked to the ground.

The crash definitely, and irreparably, changes both the past – and the future.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> as that last sentence might have hinted at, we're getting some changes in the next chapter - two new faces are joining the cast! tune in this sunday for an update :) (apparently I'm doing thursday-sunday updates for now, how does that sound? too much, too little?)
> 
> also, there were more comments than I expected last time and I haven't gotten to responding to them - I've been rather overwhelmed with the kind words!!! thank you guys so much :) <3


	5. Chapter 5

Edwin Jarvis has always prided himself on his knowledge of the proper etiquette. As a child he was taught its ways by his now late mother, a woman who was driven by an almost mad urge for perfection. When she rearranged the flowers in the dining room for the fifth time in one morning, it was to quell the deep pool of anxiety left by the also late mr Jarvis. When Edwin does, it’s a mere stop on the way to set the table; ingrained in his very nature. That’s one of the many reasons he’s such a valuable addition to the Stark household.

He also holds great pride when it comes to driving. Getting mr Stark and his many mistresses from point A to B takes up a large portion of his job – as does handling shipments of exotic livestock and exquisite wines. He knows how to fix flat tires, though he rarely has to. He vacuums the car seats before every important gathering Stark goes to. It would, after all, be an atrocity if the man were to step out of his gleaming, custom Chevrolet with crumbs on the three hundred dollar suit.

That is why it is so shocking when a man walks out in front of the car Edwin’s driving and he reacts too late to steer aside. His foot slams down on the break pedal only a second before the front collides with the pedestrian. The impact creating a large indent in an otherwise flawless exterior. Three seconds later, the vehicle comes to a complete stop.

‘Oh lord,’ Edwin says.

‘What was that?’ Howard asks from the back – Jarvis does not spare a second to explain the situation to his master. He bounds out of the car, still in disbelief, and hurries to the aid of the man on the road.

Only it isn’t a man. It’s a boy.

‘Oh lord,’ he says again, ‘are you all right? Hello? Can you hear me?!’

The boy groans, lying on his side with hands curled over his head. ‘Karma’s a bitch,’ he mutters.

‘A what?’ Jarvis tries to recall the shortest route to the nearest hospital in case the boy’s injuries require immediate attention. Oh god – what if this youngster keeps rambling nonsense, what if he’s indefinitely hurt? Edwin has never even gotten a parking ticket, and only disobeys the speed limit when in the company of miss Carter. He never thought he’d hit someone – much less a young boy.

‘I’m fine, don’t worry,’ the child assures though he still has his eyes firmly shut. ‘I just- need a moment, all right? It’s okay, really I’m fine...’

‘Fine? I just hit you with my car!’ Edwin clears his throat hastily, trying to rid of the high pitch in his voice. ‘It’s going to be all right, young man. I will take you to the hospital-’

The boy gasps as his eyes fly open. He immediately begins to stand, though it’s obvious it pains him.

‘I’m- I’m fine! Really, I- no hospital, okay? No- no hospital. I gotta… a little girl’s waiting for me, so...’

‘Jarvis, did you hit someone?’ Mr Stark exits the vehicle, positively stunned. ‘I thought you were the best driver in all of LA.’

‘He just jumped in front of me! Young man, I do hope you’re more careful in the future.’

The boy groans, now swaying on his feet. He rubs his neck. ‘Mm hm, more careful, got it. I’ll definitely try...’ He trails off, spotting Stark who’s on his way to join them.

‘Are you all right?’ Howard asks, blinking irritatedly against the bright sun. Edwin wonders if he’s still nursing that massive hangover from two nights ago.

‘Do I… know you?’

‘From the papers maybe, but otherwise… we’ve never met, have we Jarvis?’

‘You meet a lot of people, sir.’ Goodness, the last thing they need is for this boy to be the son of some powerful politician. Edwin is still reeling from the dispute involving Winston Churchill and a slice of apple pie, and that was not even half as bad as this would be.

Now that the shock has gone by, he notices the youngster’s clothes. The boy is wearing a bodysuit that covers every inch of his skin right up to the neck, glinting like metal but far too tight around his frame to actually be that. There’s a garish pattern at the centre of his torso, almost resembling a spider, and other lines of gold and blue break through the red at mismatched places. No, thank God – it’s much more likely he’s a stray from a nearby theatrical production than the kin of some powerful, rich man.

‘What’s your name, kid?’ Howard asks, reaching for his wallet.

‘Peter.’ The boy swallows audibly.

‘Well then, Peter. Here’s a few dollars to get you home, okay?’

‘Uh…’ Peter stares at the bills for a moment, frowning. He doesn’t seem surprised at the lavish generosity but he doesn’t look like he expected it either. ‘Thanks, mr…?’

‘Stark, Howard Stark.’

Peter freezes, eyes going wide – but not in a star-struck way. Instead, a naked hurt ends up on his face, and though he tries, after a few moments of collecting himself, to smile around it, its weight still manages to tug down on his lips and the skin around his eyes.

‘Don’t look so gloomy,’ Howard says, shifting his weight, ‘I’m not as bad as the papers make me out to be.’

‘Yeah, uh… I have to- I have to go. Yeah, I need to go now. Thank you so much for this-’ Peter folds the money quickly- ‘but I have to go. Someone’s waiting for me, my uh… little sister. Could you just, uh, tell me which way Auerbach’s is?’

‘The theatrical agency?’ Stark frowns, ‘Are you trying out?’

‘No, uh… my sister’s there. Our uh, friend works there, so…’

Edwin exchanges a look with his master. They both know the building’s a mere front for the SSR, and so anyone working there would be an agent of the law, not the arts.

‘As a matter of fact, we were just going down there ourselves.’ Howard flashes his finest paparazzi smile.

‘We were?’ Jarvis asks – they’d received the call from chief Sousa earlier that day, requesting their presence, but Stark being Stark had rudely declined in favour of an early dinner and a quick trip down Hollywood boulevard.

‘We were,’ the man confirms, shooting his butler a stern look. Seems like SSR has piqued his interest even more than shopping for a new tie. ‘How about we give you a ride?’

* * *

Peter knows he’s screwed up majorly this time. When Steve carried him and Morgan the short way to Auerbach’s, he was quick enough to maybe, just maybe be noticed by few enough people to keep the past intact. When Peter made inhuman leaps from rooftop to rooftop, he made sure no one saw him. But this, this is too close to home. It’s meeting Tony’s dad – Morgan’s grandfather, and they’re going to the same place. What if Howard sees Morgan, what if he sees Steve? Didn’t he work with Captain America during the war?

Peter sinks down into the leather back-seat of the car – he’s screwed, and it certainly doesn’t help his case that Howard Stark is eyeing him like the man’s on his way to uncover every last secret hidden beneath the Spider-man suit. It also isn’t helping that Parker’s still wearing his odd attire, and that he can’t change until he’s out of sight. Nanotechnology definitely isn’t a thing yet.

‘So, Peter. You sure you’re not hurt? You’re looking a bit… pale.’

‘Yeah, I’m fine.’ Now really isn’t the time to make small talk with the founder of Stark Industries.

Howard leans forward. He’s foregone a seatbelt, as if his driver’s recent run in with a pedestrian wasn’t warning enough. Actually, now that Peter thinks about it, he can’t seem to find any of the familiar life-saving straps wherever he looks. That’s weird. Wait, are seatbelts not a thing yet?

‘You’re not from around here, are you? Your accent sounds more… east coast.’

‘Yeah,’ Peter laughs airily, ‘you could say that.’

‘We’re here,’ the posh Brit announces, parking smoothly just a few steps from the agency-slash-hidden-office’s doorstep. That’s good, seeing as people still look twice when they notice the Spider-man suit. Peter doesn’t need more attention than he’s already got.

‘All right then, pal.’ Howard clears his throat. ‘Guess this is it.’

When they enter the waiting room Sousa is arguing with Rose at the front desk. His collar is unbuttoned, a few hairs standing up like he’s run his hand through it over and over again. Rose seems to be deep in thought, her nose scrunched up like whatever the chief is saying isn’t much to her pleasure. As soon as the door jingles they stop what they’re doing to stare.

‘Peter,’ the chief says harshly, but not unkindly, ‘we’ve been looking everywhere for you!’

‘I’m sorry. I just… had to get something.’

‘Next time you need anything, you talk to me, okay? You can’t just leave. I don’t want to seem mean, but you’re technically under arrest until questioning’s over.’

‘Oh.’ The boy scratches his neck – he’d never meant to become a fugitive. ‘I’m really sorry, I didn’t know.’

‘I see you two have met before,’ Howard says, looking very much like he doesn’t want to be here. His whole mannerism, the way he raps his thigh in a quick _tap tap tap_ screams _let’s get this over with as soon as possible._

‘As a matter of fact,’ Sousa says, ‘he’s one of the people you’re here to meet – although, I was under the impression that you had better things to do.’

‘I did, but then this got interesting. I do hope you’re hiding someone more convincing than this kid’s sister in a red, white and blue onesie though.’

Sousa nods. ‘We do. Although I’m not sure it warrants the presence of your butler.’

‘Jarvis is much more than just my butler, chief – he’s also an excellent second opinion.’

‘All right, then.’ He turns to Peter, eyeing the teen like he’s going to run again. ‘They’re in the interrogation room for now. I’ll have to escort you there.’

‘Sure. Yeah, sure- just, uh… miss Rose?’

The secretary – or possibly secret agent – blinks, surprised at his candid tone.

‘Yes?’

‘Could you, uh… I’m not sure if this is enough,’ Peter confesses, handing her the money Howard gave him, ‘but my- uh, my sister’s hungry, and I don’t want to trouble you, but I was wondering if there’s maybe a sandwich shop – seeing as I can’t go buy it myself. I- I’m sorry, I’m sure this isn’t your job, but she’s hungry and she gets cranky if she doesn’t eat, and-’

‘No worries,’ Rose smiles, ‘There’s a burger place just down the street. I’ll get you both something, okay? This is… a bit too much, though.’

‘Oh.’ _F_ _ive_ _dollar’s too much for_ _two_ _burger_ _s_ _? I mean sure, if it’s a_ _McDonald’s –_ _but like… how much is_ _five_ _dollars in this time?_ ‘Uh, just keep the rest then.’

‘Wow, that’s generous kid,’ Stark says, raising an eyebrow, ‘I’m sure your parents are very proud of you. I’d like to get going, though – chief, if you could let us into your lair?’

Sousa barely suppresses a roll of his eyes. ‘It’s this way.’

* * *

The room is a simple six by eight with a table in the middle, two chairs on opposite ends and a blanket Edwards was kind enough to lay down where Morgan is sitting. She’s burrowed herself into the thin, static fabric, back against the corner across from the door. It’s been at least an hour since Peter left.

‘Why’s the mirror so big?’ she asks, the sound of it muffled by the blanket.

‘I don’t know.’ _So that whatever agent’s watching from the other side can see us wherever we decide to sit._ ‘What do you think?’

‘I dunno.’

Steve turns to the next page in the newspaper chief Sousa has kindly supplied. May 16th 1947 isn’t very eventful. There’s an election nearing, a local one, and Howard Stark has apparently made headlines with his new interest in directing motion pictures. Other than that there’s an unsolved murder, an uneventful, short interview with a lottery winner and an article on something or other left from the war that Steve skips wholly. He’s grown used to world war two being over for going on a century. It’s strange stepping back into a world that only just escaped it.

‘You still hungry?’ he asks Morgan, putting down the paper to look at her. She’s grown less shell shocked and more confused, quietly mulling over what’s happened, where they’ve gone. He doesn’t think she can comprehend all of it, but she’s trying very hard to understand.

‘Uh huh. When’s Peter back?’

‘I don’t know,’ he sighs. There’s no clock in the room and he’s getting increasingly worried about the kid’s absence.

‘Is he still getting the bracelet?’

‘I don’t know that either. Maybe. Or maybe he found it, and he just got lost on the way back.’

There’s a chance Parker has gone after the discarded mobius strip to change Tony’s death like he’d promised Morgan, but trying to change one’s own past creates a separate timeline as soon as major change is achieved, if Bruce is to be believed. And that means Peter would be trapped in this new timeline never to return.

Morgan looks up at him, two eyes in a mess of fabric and knotted hair. ‘D’you think he’s really lost?’

Steve considers his answer. Perhaps he shouldn’t have been so candid with her.

‘He might be, but I’m sure he’s on his way here.’

‘D’you think he’s scared? ‘Cause he’s lost?’

Rogers smiles sadly, one hand brushing the hair out of her face, trying to comb through it. ‘Maybe he is. He’s a long way from home, after all. But he knows where we are, and we’ll be here for him when he comes back. And there’s no reason to be scared when you’re not alone, right? No matter how far from home you find yourself to be. When he comes back, a friend of mine is going to come here and she’ll help us get home. So he might be scared now, but when he comes back, we’ll tell him that and he won’t be any more.’

Steve lets that sink in for a few moments. Morgan wiggles one arm out of her cocoon to pick her nose.

‘Okay,’ she says.

Steve turns to his magazine again, ‘I’ll ask Sousa to bring you a sandwich when he gets back, okay?’

‘Mm hm.’

She scoots forward, unwrapping part of the blanket to spread it over his legs. Then she lays her head down on them. He smiles softly before going back to reading; before he lost the love of his life, he always dreamt of what was a typical future for his time. A white picket fence, one or two kids running across the lawn with a kite and muddy shoes. A wife to cook dinner with and spin around to the slow trombone coming through a record player in the living room. Morgan reminds him of that.

He wonders if Peggy’s still open to that possibility or if she’s already let him go. Perhaps she has. She was always stronger than him. And the way Sousa spoke to her… if she’s moved on, Steve has no right to stay.

But then how does he get back?

His mysterious package sits on the table, out of reach for temptation. _D_ _on’t open the next box until absolutely necessary._ His fingers itch to undo the sloppy bow he’d retied around it, but it’s not time yet. Not yet.

The lock on the door turns, two shadows standing behind the frosted glass. If Morgan hadn’t been near sleeping on him Steve would’ve jumped up.

‘Peter,’ he says, both relieved and frustrated, ‘where _were_ you?’

‘I’m sorry, I just- I had to get this, and- and I… I just...’ Peter thumbs at the edges of the mobius strip, head hanging in shame. Behind him, Sousa steps outside and locks the door again. ‘I’m sorry, Steve, Morgan. I shouldn’t have...’ The boy quiets when he sees the girl’s resting form.

‘We have to stay together,’ Steve says softly. ‘We’re dealing with things none of us can really comprehend. Believe me, it’s easier to screw up than you’d think.’

Parker nods, sitting down beside the Captain and Morgan. He holds up the semi-disassembled mobius strip.

‘It doesn’t work. I tried to fix it but I don’t have the parts. They don’t exist yet.’

‘Not everything’s fixable.’

Peter doesn’t miss the hidden meaning in those words. ‘You can’t know that unless you try,’ he says stubbornly, ‘you didn’t give up on saving the universe for all those years I missed.’

Steve runs a few fingers in a pattern on Morgan’s back, slowly enough not to wake her. It’s for the best if she stays unaware of their troubles, to the massacre that took place just before she was born. She’s still too young.

‘But we did. We… gave up. Moved on, those of us who could.’ He smiles a bit when Morgan shifts in her sleep, mouth half open.

‘But he didn’t- I mean, he figured it out. Tony figured out the whole...’ the kid lowers his voice to a whisper, ‘ _time travel_ thing and now I’m here, so why- why can’t I do the same?’

‘He didn’t spend five years on it, bud. He mourned, and he… he moved on.’ Steve doesn’t judge Parker for the disappointment that shows, briefly, on his face. Especially not after the crashing wave of palpable guilt that follows.

‘That’s- good, it’s good but he still figured it out-’

‘Only once we had evidence that it would work. It took Scott, living proof, for us to regain some kind of hope. None of us dared… Tony, he didn’t- we had to let it go until we found a real chance. And it wasn’t like this, Pete – we were just undoing Thanos’ wrong with an equal counter-measure, it was thought-through. It wasn’t-’

‘Why don’t you want to save him?’

The Captain starts at that, jolting enough to make Morgan protest with a soft, annoyed groan. Peter’s eyes are shining.

‘You keep making these excuses. How it’s not the same, like the universe can decide whether it’s fair game or not to bring people back to life. Don’t you… don’t you wanna save him?’

Steve’s head falls back heavily against the wall. His eyes trail to the mirror and whoever must be listening behind it. So far, the kid and him have been quiet, but there’s no guarantee this conversation can stay hidden from unwanted ears.

‘After… everything,’ he says quietly, hoping Parker will know what that means, ‘we went after Thanos.’

‘I know. And dr Banner snapped his fingers and we were alive again.’

‘Eventually, yes. But before that… just a month after Thanos, we found out where he was. We went across the galaxy, confronted him.’ Rogers closes his eyes for a moment, remembering stars whirling past him, the vastness of space. The desperate tug on his chest, knowing that if it didn’t work… he hadn’t even known how to finish that sentence at the time. ‘When we found out he’d destroyed the stones, we killed him. And then there was this… desperation. Disappointment. I’ve never felt anything like it. We had the first draft of a plan, yes, but we had no backup one, nothing to do once that first idea failed. It was just a dream.

‘I guess why I’m protesting is… it’s because I don’t want you to get to that point. Running away from something is just running blindly. So if you have to run, you gotta have a solid destination. Else you’re just gonna get lost and exhaust yourself for nothing.’

Peter fiddles with his mobius strip, turning it over, poking at the wires. He sniffles, but it doesn’t seem like he’s crying yet.

‘You sound like your PSAs.’

Steve cringes. ‘They’re still showing those, huh.’

‘Yeah.’

The kid starts scratching away some of the ash on the edge of the bracelet. He takes his time, careful to rid of every last speck of dirt. The Captain decides against picking up his newspaper, settling on patiently waiting instead. There’s some kind of muffled noise coming from the other room, a door opening. Perhaps the agent watching has grown tired of not being able to hear them.

‘And what if I found a way?’ Peter speaks up, ‘What if I really, really figured it out? Would you stop me then?’

‘That depends on the cost.’ Steve disregards the hostile look that comes over the kid’s face, shaking his head at the sight of it. ‘Tony wouldn’t have wanted you to die for him.’

‘Oh.’ Parker deflates, slumping against the wall. He sinks down even more when the noise from outside acts up again. ‘I’m sorry. I get what you’re saying, and I- I should’ve gotten it before. And I should’ve told you something before we began all of this.’

‘What?’

A key is inserted into the interrogation room’s door. It sounds like there’s more than one person on the other side this time, though.

‘On the way here...’ Peter sighs tiredly. ‘It’s been a crazy day. I mean, _crazy._ I think Howard Stark’s butler hit me with his car.’

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> how could I write a fanfic set in the 40s without Howard and Jarvis? hopefully you like them too, because they'll hang around for awhile :)
> 
> tune in Thursday for a Howard and Steve reunion!


	6. Chapter 6

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Steve reunites with Howard and Peter eats a really good burger.

Rose is the first one to enter the room, holding two paper bags smelling richly of burgers. God, Peter’s hungry. Like, really, really hungry. Starving, if he may say so – last time he ate was lunch, which was, what… six hours plus however long they’ve been here in the forties? Seven, eight hours? Not to mention, time travel wears on you like a severe workout. Suddenly it’s as if his stomach hasn’t known food for weeks.

He still possesses some manners, though. That’s the only reason he doesn’t jump the poor woman and inhale his meal with paper bag and all. Instead he waits, the picture of patience, until she’s set the meals on the table.

‘Morgan.’ He taps her shoulder, remembering how hungry she was before he left. Burgers are always best when they’re still hot. ‘Hey, wake up, sleepyhead. Dinner’s ready.’

Her face scrunches up adorably. ‘Mommy?’

‘No, uh, it’s Peter.’

‘Mommy was making mac ‘n’ cheese...’ She yawns, slowly blinking her way back into reality.

‘I know, Mor, but… mommy’s not here right now. So we’ve gotten the next best thing, okay? You like burgers, right?’

‘Mm hm...’

Steve carefully manoeuvrers around the small human leaning against him, setting her head down on the floor before standing. Howard Stark has followed Rose and chief Sousa inside. He’s staring at the soldier, who’s in return staring back at him. They both look like they’re seeing ghosts.

‘What the hell?’

The butler – Peter swears he heard the senior mr Stark call him Jarvis, but that doesn’t make any sense – is the last one to enter the room. He closes the door.

‘Howard,’ Steve begins, but the man in question cuts him off by taking a step forward.

‘You died.’

‘I didn’t. I mean, I thought I did, but then I woke up. Turns out the ice preserved my body.’

Stark looks mr Rogers over like he’s some long lost artefact sent down by the gods at the dawn of time. ‘I searched for you. We couldn’t find you. So how… how? How do I know you’re- but you look like him...’

‘I don’t suppose you have any vials of my blood at hand?’ the Captain asks, shifting his weight, ‘I remember there were at least seven of them...’

‘We used them up. There aren’t any left.’

‘I’m going to go make a phone call,’ the British butler says. Judging by how pale he’s gone, it’s likely an excuse to escape the room.

Morgan has finally opened her eyes fully, so Peter takes his chance and lifts her so that he can set her down before the table with the food. Oh _god,_ his stomach is literally twisting in pain now, but he’s gotta earn the god-brother title somehow and so he makes sure she’s as comfortable as she can get on the hard, wooden chair and gives the first burger from the bag to her. They’re both large, big-mac-esque monsters, so he has to disassemble hers so that she can fit it in her small mouth.

Then, _finally_ , he can dig into his own.

It’s like those corny movie scenes where two people look at each other and the world fades away. As soon as that heavenly combination of meat, fresh bread, mayonnaise and salad hits his tongue, his soul ascends to a euphoric plane. Now, Peter’s not usually one for mayonnaise, but desperate times and all that. Besides, this one’s fricking tasty. Must be because May didn’t make it.

Soon he’s sucking the grease off his fingers, not caring how it looks. That’s when he finally tunes back in to Steve and Howard’s conversation.

‘God… if you’d just said some foreign ship found you – hell, even if you’d said Red Skull rose from the dead and dug you up – I’d have believed you. But… time travel? Has a medic looked you over?’

‘Wait,’ Peter says, wiping his hands on the bag that the burgers came with, ‘you- you _told_ them?’

‘I trust these people,’ Steve says, but he’s still frowning worriedly at Howard’s pacing. Stark is walking past the big mirror, which is probably one-way glass like in the movies, shaking his head and muttering to himself. He looks, quite frankly, like he’s going crazy.

‘B-but- this is- are we really doing this? You said it yourself, we can’t change the past-’

‘We won’t. They can keep a secret, right?’

Chief Sousa has growing concern written across his features. Yup, he definitely thinks Captain America’s gone mad. Rose is standing, awkwardly, in one corner, like she’s not supposed to be here at all.

‘If you’re from the future, then these are, what – your kids?’ Howard stops in front of the table, scrutinizing Peter and Morgan. The girl takes the moment to drop a huge click of mayonnaise on her lap.

‘They’re my friend’s,’ Steve says, accepting the handkerchief Rose offers to wipe sauce off the preschooler’s dress.

‘This still doesn’t make any sense,’ Sousa frowns.

‘I can prove it.’ All eyes go to Parker and he blushes. ‘I- I mean if we’re really going down that road, messing with the past, then yeah- I’ll prove it. This suit’s getting kinda stuffy anyway, I mean it’s like a hundred degrees in here and the air-conditioning is a no show...’

He looks to Steve for permission. The man nods, slowly, and Peter smiles nervously. _Here goes nothing._

He presses the web-shooters thrice, hoping mr Stark – his mr Stark, that is – has fixed the shooters enough that the suit will release. The fact there had been one in them at all to begin with is impressive, so he can’t get his hopes up – maybe he’ll just have to live in this sauna forever. It has a filtration system, so going to the bathroom won’t be a problem. Unless the system’s broken of course.

The nanoparticles scale back on their own, retreating to their housing unit in the right web-shooter. The temperature is much more bearable now that he’s back in a science pun tee and jeans, though he’s facing the same shoe-problem as Morgan. Tony always told him to wear at least crocs – which Peter despises – in the lab, seeing as there’s always scrap metal lying about, but he seems to have forgotten that today.

‘So, uh… ta-da, future-stuff?’

Rose drops the handkerchief Steve’s just handed back to her. Chief Sousa is stunned, and Howard Stark’s own flabbergasted face is slowly turning into a grin.

‘I’ll be damned,’ he says.

‘It’s nanoparticles.’

‘I’ll admit, that’s very impressive, but it doesn’t really prove anything.’

‘Did we see the same thing?’ Sousa asks and Howard waves the astonishment away.

‘It’s just science, not magic – so what, there’s someone else out there who’s way smarter than me? Hard to believe, but still a better explanation than time travel. I need concrete evidence.’

‘I can’t take you to the future, Howard-’ Steve crosses his arms- ‘You’ll just have to trust me.’

‘Isn’t there at least something you can ask him that only he’d know?’ Sousa says.

‘Maybe.’ Howard walks up to the Captain, adopting the same pose as him. With the inches between them, the former doesn’t look very imposing as his head just about reaches the soldier’s shoulder, but Rogers sucks in a breath anyway. ‘What’s your birthday?’

‘Fourth of July.’

‘No way,’ Peter snickers, ‘I thought that was just a marketing ploy.’

‘Have you ever been jealous of me? Lady-wise.’

‘I…’ Rogers sighs, ‘Yes, but… I thought fondue meant...’

‘And where were we at the time?’

‘In a plane to Austria, on our way to rescue the 107th Infantry.’

‘And how long have you been in love with Peggy Carter?’

Steve’s cheeks turn slightly pink, ‘Since- since just after we met at Camp Lehigh in June, 1943. I, um… I’ve still got the compass.’ He fiddles with the pouches on his belt, producing something small and brass like a pocket watch. When the lid opens, Peter steals a glance of the photo inside. It’s a newspaper cut-out of a brunette. _Wow, Captain America has a crush. I wonder if she’s a super_ _hero_ _too._

Howard steps back, mouth hanging slightly ajar. ‘Steve…? It’s really you, isn’t it?’

‘If you don’t believe that, you can always carbon date the kid’s suit.’

Peter would have snuck in a comment about how carbon dating doesn’t actually tell which year an item’s from, but roughly how old it is, if the truth hadn’t dawned on Stark’s face in that very moment. He shuts his mouth again. The inventor clears his throat, nodding to himself, then grasping Steve’s arm in some macho-substitute for a hug. Steve just chuckles, throwing toxic masculinity out the window as he drags his friend into an embrace.

‘Pete?’ Morgan asks in the middle of the reunion, ‘Can I have my other burger please?’

‘Sure.’ The teen hands her the top half from where it had lain, too far away for her to reach. His stomach growls a bit – he could eat at least four more of these forties-style Big Macs. It’s okay, though. They’ve got other things to worry about.

‘Okay,’ Howard pushes away from the soldier. He wipes his eyes discreetly. ‘If you’re from the future, then how the hell...’

‘Hell,’ Morgan echoes, mouth full of food. Stark starts, paling slightly.

‘...uh… did you get here? And- why with two children?’

‘It’s my fault,’ Peter supplies, ‘I was messing around with the, uh, time travel thing we have, and it malfunctioned. I was gonna fix it to get us back, but you don’t have the components here.’

‘Yeah?’ A spark lights in the inventor’s eye. ‘Try me.’

‘You think you can help us fix it?’ Steve perks up.

‘If anyone can figure it out, it would be me. Don’t worry, kids, I’ll get you back home in no time.’ Howard finishes with a wink at Morgan who’s just staring, confused.

‘But… Pete, we’re gonna save daddy.’

The room quiets again. This time, chief Sousa’s the one to break the spell.

‘You… you went back in time to change the past?’

‘That doesn’t sound very safe,’ Stark says in alarm.

‘We’re gonna save daddy,’ Morgan insists stubbornly, then turns to the Captain. ‘Like you saved Pete.’

The adults all turn to Steve, who fiddles with his compass. ‘It’s not… it’s not the same, Morgan. If we find a safe way to do it, maybe, but...’

He’s saved from any further explanation by the return of the butler. Jarvis all but rushes in, panting slightly, ‘It’s all right, I have found a viable DNA sample.’

‘Excuse me?’ Stark says.

‘I gave miss Carter the last sample of mr Rogers’ blood to dispose of as she wished. She’s still in possession of the vial, so there should be some traces of DNA on the inside-’

‘You told me that sample was lost!’ Howard exclaims like he’s been betrayed.

‘It was too dangerous to just have laying around! Miss Carter was the only one who knew what to do with it.’

‘Hold on-’ Sousa raises a hand to stop the bickering- ‘you’re telling me there’s yet another way to prove he’s telling the truth?’

Jarvis looks back and forth between the chief and his master. ‘Another?’

‘Yeah, we’ve already established that this is the real Steve Rogers.’

The butler fumbles for awhile, mouth opening and closing. ‘Oh,’ he says at last.

Morgan leans back in her chair, a big chunk of the burger still left in her hand. ‘Done. I’m tired.’

‘I don’t suppose we’re still under arrest?’ Steve asks and the chief shakes his head.

‘If you’re really the Captain – no, you’re free to go.’

Jarvis is still flustered, but it doesn’t take long for him to resume his job. ‘Should I see if Ana might assist in making the guest beds?’

‘Yeah. And maybe have her cook something for Steve.’

‘Very well, sir,’ the butler says and then he’s off again. He leaves the door open this time. Peter peeks outside – there aren’t as many people about, so some of the agents must’ve clocked out for the day.

‘I’ll go as well,’ Rose speaks up, but she’s stopped by Sousa before she can leave.

‘Can I trust that you’ll keep this under wraps?’

‘Of course. There’s going to be questions, though.’ She glances over at Steve’s very obviously star-spangled suit.

‘Then you direct them all to me.’ The chief turns to the Captain, ‘I’ll give you some time before I address the situation.’

‘Thank you.’

There’s something strange in Sousa’s expression when he talks to the soldier. Something… regretful. Resigned. It’s quite alike Flash when he’s stuck as alternate for a competition in all ways but the lack of blatant despise. At least Sousa isn’t a bully even if there’s a hint of jealousy there.

Steve picks up Morgan and carries her out. Peter feels like an escaped prisoner when he returns to the bustling agency, like he’s barely escaped jail even though he’s innocent. Once more, men stop in their tracks when they pass, but this time the chief levels everyone with a stern gaze that makes the grown men scurry away like mice before a cat.

Stark takes up the rear. Parker’s carrying the box, mobius strip and shoes from the trash. The inventor’s words echo back into the teen’s head. _I’ll get you back home in no time._ Meaning, he might as well start thinking about the problem now. If he’s understood correctly, he has until Howard Stark fixes the quantum suit to figure out a paradox-free way of saving Tony.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Next time - Peter ponders ideas to save Tony, everyone has a good time at Howard's mansion and Morgan makes a discovery.


	7. Chapter 7

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> in which the plot thickens (aka actually starts to go somewhere)

Morgan falls asleep in the car. She’s drooling in Peter’s lap, leaving enough space for the three of them in the back seat. The boy might as well be out, what with the blank stare on his face. There’s a lot on his mind. Steve decides to let them be.

There’s not really a good time for speaking with Howard until after they’ve arrived at the Stark manor. A ginger woman with a slight accent greets them warmly, decidedly not looking twice at the Captain, much to his thanks. She introduces herself as Ana Jarvis before guiding them inside. A table awaits, set for six.

‘Did she really say Jarvis?’ Peter mumbles on the way through the hallway, ‘Like the old AI?’

Steve shrugs, ‘Must’ve been where Tony got it from.’

‘Now, I heard the children had already eaten, but they’re more than welcome to another snack before bed,’ Ana says, giving Edwin a peck on the cheek on her way to set down a freshly tossed salad. ‘I started making this beef pie with three people in mind, though, so I boiled up some soup as well. It should be done any second now.’

‘Ana,’ mr Jarvis adds, ‘has bought _canned_ soup. Even though I make a perfectly fine substitute out of fresh ingredients.’

‘Just because you haven’t tried something, darling, doesn’t mean it isn’t good.’ The Jarvis's share another kiss, this one on the mouth and a lot longer than the previous one. Howard chuckles, sitting down at the end of the mahogany table. It’s so achingly familiar, and so much like a dream that Steve can barely believe his eyes.

‘I, uh...’ Peter throws a longing glance at the steaming pie. Its crust is golden and folded along the edge of the pan in a manner of precision that’s been lost to the 21st century. It smells like Rogers’ mother’s own cooking. ‘I should probably get Morgan to bed. Is there a guest room, or a couch, or…?’

‘I’ll show you,’ Edwin supplies and the boy follows him back, out of the dining room. Morgan’s still passed out and drooling down Parker’s shoulder.

‘You all right there?’

Steve turns to Howard. It’s quiet, there’s no bustling noise from sirens and cars going by outside. There’s a clock on the wall, one of those with Roman numerals and a tiny roof like it’s a cottage on top. In forty minutes, when the spindle hand turns upwards, a bird will shoot out of a trap door to announce the next hour. On the cabinet beneath stands a radio, broadcasting news on a low volume.

‘It’s…’ He can’t even finish the sentence.

‘Not like the future?’ Stark guesses and Steve shakes his head. For all that the Decimation made the world quiet, it’s still unnerving how down to earth this house is. And here, it’s not a somber mourning that fills the air. It’s a cosy Friday evening waiting for the weekend to begin, a world that continues spinning with hopeless optimism.

In a way, it has its likeness to 2023. 1947 has too just escaped a war and carries tremendous loss in a like it thinks the world will never know again. But it’s not grieving. It has, somewhat, moved on.

‘Not at all. I’ve missed it.’

Howard begins to smile, ‘I’ve missed you too, you know. I still haven’t quite… comprehended, that you’re home. But you are.’

‘Yeah.’ _For now,_ his brain supplies and he falters some. _For a little while – or forever, depending on…_

It’s still eighteen hours until Peggy is set to arrive at Los Angeles Airport.

‘Here, all done,’ Ana announces as she walks into the dining room. She’s holding a large pot of still bubbling soup smelling richly of bacon and some kind of beans, that she places in the middle of the table like a majestic centrepiece.

‘Now, don’t be shy! I’ll go get mr Jarvis and the boy, and we’ll be back before you’ve even finished loading your plates.’

* * *

When Peter wakes up, he’s still full of pie. Usually he feels like he’s starving after ten hours without eating – including after sleeping. His routine has been _dinner,_ _nap_ _, snack, patrol, snack, sleep_ ever since the spider-bite. Or at least it was before he died. Still, his body’s not used to going without at least an apple for more than three hours, so it’s surprising that he’s close to content now.

A growing suspicions tells him it’s only because he’s still half-asleep, so he tries to block out the sun lest he gain consciousness again. Someone jabs a foot into his side and he groans. Right. He’s sharing the bed… wait, since when does he share a bed?

‘Hmpf!’

His eyes fly open to see Morgan, all bustled up in a large nightgown mrs Jarvis has lent her, loosely kicking one leg into his ribs to gain more space. As a matter of fact, she’s driven him almost to the floor already, and still, in her sleep, she continues to crave more.

Peter smiles a little, which it doesn’t feel like he’s done in awhile. Not genuinely, at least. The strain on his cheeks is a bit foreign, a bit harsh. Right. They’re stuck in the past, and he has to save Tony before they get back and he’s grounded forever.

He gently rolls off the mattress to get dressed in his clothes from yesterday. A few bruises have appeared along his ribcage and thigh from when the car hit him. They’re already fading. It’s still awhile until breakfast, he wagers, and mr Jarvis gave him a pen and paper yester-evening. There’s a desk in the guest bedroom; he’s got planning to do.

Apparently Howard Stark doesn’t sleep much, just like his son. Steve handed over both his and Peter’s mobius strips before they all went to bed for the man to look over during the night. Howard isn’t brilliant enough to have figured out a solution already but there’s a chance it’ll only take a few more days. It’s all good seeing as every half-formed plan Parker’s made has something to do with time travel. It’s all good, as long as he finishes perfecting them before that.

_Saving Tony_ _Ideas_

  1. _Kill Thanos in the future before he gets his army from the past to the future so Tony won’t have to snap them to dust_



_Pros – purple idiot dead_

_Cons – would definitely fuck up my own past and create other timeline_

  1. _Get to Tony before he snaps and switch place with him_



_P_ _ros – Tony doesn’t die_

_Cons – I die. And probably fuck up the timeline_

_3._ _Enlist dr Strange and use the time stone to reverse Tony’s_ ~~_corpse_ ~~ _body to before it was fatally injured._

_Pros – Tony’s alive again_

_Cons –_ ~~_sounds to_ ~~ ~~_o_ ~~ ~~_sci fi to work, but who knows_ ~~ ~~_so did time travel_ ~~ _Actually, no cons. Past intact, future fixed._ _Might be difficult to get hold of time stone before it’s sent back though._ _Also b_ _ody has to be dug up._

Peter balances on the back legs of his chair like he does in school when he’s bored. Only this time, he isn’t. He’s relieved. That third one is actually worth bringing up to Steve, but he sets about figuring out a fourth just in case. As the Captain said about his own failures, _We had_ _a_ _first draft_ _of a plan, but we had no backup one, nothing to do once that first idea failed._ Parker’s gonna have a backup plan, though, and a backup for the backup. He’s not going to wing the most important mission of his life. That’s what’s going to ensure that it doesn’t go south.

He continues to scribble down his messy handwriting with the fancy calligraphy pen. When mingled scents of eggs, meat and warm bread drift in through the half-closed door, he blows on the drying ink and puts the folded piece of paper away for later. Then he wakes Morgan.

* * *

Edwin Jarvis, it turns out, is great with children. Especially semi-traumatised four and a half year olds from the future. After a late lunch, and after Steve has been given an extensive tour of the mansion menagerie by Ana Jarvis, he arrives back at the front lawn near the gates. There, Morgan is watching a pink bird prance around on the grass.

‘What’s his name?’ she asks.

‘Bernard – Bernard Stark, to call him by his full name. As you can see, he’s not very fond of his enclosure and prefers to trample every flower bed he lays his eyes upon.’

‘Is Bernard my brother? ‘Cause of his name?’

Steve sucks in a breath, but Jarvis doesn’t seem too bothered by the remark. ‘I thought your brother’s name was Peter – Bernard doesn’t happen to be your last name, does it? Either way, I don’t think that devil in pink would be much of a good brother to you.’

‘What animal is he?’ Morgan giggles as Bernard starts picking at a well-trimmed cherry tree.

‘A flamingo,’ Edwin smiles fondly. He’s been quite distraught as he’s watched the creature destroy everything in its path, but as soon as he turns to the pre-schooler it all fades away. Like magic. ‘Have you ever seen a flamingo before, miss Morgan?’

‘No. I always wanted a bird, though. Or a cat.’

Jarvis nods seriously, ‘Both excellent choices.’

‘Mommy said it’s a lot of work but she’d think on it. And I have to choose, ‘cause birds and cats don’t always get along.’ She digs the tips of her shoes, the ones Peter had miraculously salvaged for her, into the dry lawn and watches as Bernard does the same with his beak.

‘Indeed they don’t. Well, if anyone could master a bird, I bet it’d be you. Still, personally I’d go for the cat. Better pet _and_ brother material, I’d wager.’

‘Yeah, they’re fluffy.’

Steve watches them for awhile. Morgan’s taken their fate exceptionally well, given her age. She’s still struggled at times throughout the morning, staring blankly in shock before something snaps and she’s off running like a regular kid again. Last night, just after Rogers had assured Peter he was really fine on the couch – the Jarvis’s are readying the second guest room for Peggy’s arrival – Morgan had woken up. She’d walked up to the front door, opened it and looked out into the night as if waiting for something. For a few minutes, she’d just stared. Refused to talk. Then she’d sighed, closed the door and gone back to bed.

Steve isn’t an expert on trauma and children, but he knows that the younger one is, the more flexible. Adjustable. She’ll be all right, with time. And there are plenty of people to look after her well-being in the meantime.

He turns back to the building Ana pointed out as Howard’s place for inventions. The sun is still high in the sky, scorching grass that’s surprisingly green given that fact. Edwin must spend most of his days setting up sprinklers. Thankfully, Stark’s lab is situated in the house’s basement where the temperature is more bearable.

‘How goes it?’

Howard jumps, the fragile pieces of metal he’d been handling scattering all over the table. The Captain thought the loud slam of the door closing upstairs would be announcement enough. Apparently Stark hasn’t shaken the habit of getting lost in his work.

‘Hey. God,’ he rubs his eyes, four empty cups of what must’ve been coffee piled high in one corner of the workspace. ‘I’m still not used to you being here. You sure this isn’t all a dream, a hallucination?’

‘Very,’ Steve assures.

‘If you say so.’

The two mobius strips lie a few inches apart, divided by an invisible line. At their sides are disassembled parts and three notebooks with mad scribbles of observations and ideas. He can’t tell if they’ve been smashed repeatedly or if the piles of circuits and wires are the result of endless, patient dismantling. Either way, he doubts either of them work in their current states.

‘Have you gotten anywhere?’

‘Well, this new tech is alien to me,’ Howard explains, glancing over at his notes, ‘but I’ve come some way with what you told me yesterday. So far I’m mostly mapping out the machines, comparing the broken one to the not-so-broken. I’ve been meaning to ask the older kid – what’s his name?’

‘Peter.’

‘Yeah, Peter. He said he was trying to fix it himself, that it was what got you all here. More than that, he said he knew what components he needed, which would make my job a hell of a lot easier.’

Steve doesn’t correct the inventor. He doesn’t know how he would explain the events that lead him to this outhouse in 1947’s L.A., and either way it wouldn’t much improve on Stark’s ability to process the soldier’s miraculous return.

‘So why haven’t you?’

Howard shrugs, trying to pass it off as nonchalance, ‘Didn’t find him. Besides, I can’t waste my time chasing around some rowdy child with a knack for wandering off. The sooner we get those kids back to the future, the better.’

Rogers feels a smirk creep up on him. If Peter were here he wouldn’t pass up the opportunity to comment on the unintentional use of a movie-title.

‘Steve?’

‘Yeah?’

Howard fiddles with organising the parts he dropped earlier.

‘How long has it been since you… woke up? In the future, I mean. How long have you lived there?’

‘Eleven years.’

Stark turns so fast he might just give himself whiplash.

‘Well shit. I mean, I knew it’d been awhile, since you look so much older-’ Steve lets out a strained chuckle- ‘but _eleven years_? Wow. That’s ten and a half more than my longest relationship.’

‘Yeah, it’s… been awhile.’

They both nod, not knowing what else to say.

‘So, when I fix this… I assumed you’d stay, before, but eleven years – that’s a whole ‘nother life.’

‘Yeah, I… I don’t have an answer for that yet, Howard. I’d like to – I mean, I want to stay. This has always been- my time. But there are people back there, and… I don’t know yet.’

‘Did you…’ Howard pales a tad, ‘God, Steve. You didn’t go and get married, did you?’

‘What? No – no, there’s no one in that sense.’ _No one_ _other_ _than her._

‘Good. That’s good, otherwise this would’ve been an awkward reunion.’ He glances to the clock, a quarter past two. Edwin Jarvis should be getting ready to depart for the airport any moment now.

‘Speaking of… that.’ Steve tries to clear his throat, fiddling with one of the scrap pieces on the table until Howard puts it back with a stern look. Right – they don’t have any spare parts. ‘Did she, uh… That is, did Peggy… I mean, I’d be happy if she did-’

‘That’s shit, Steve. Of course you wouldn’t be. And no, not as far as I’ve heard, at least.’ Stark gives his friend a playful shove, ‘Not that you have anything to worry about competition-wise.’

‘You never know. Peggy doesn’t care about looks – and I’m not the same person I was eleven years ago. Maybe she’s...’ _better off without me,_ he finishes silently but shakes his head at that. He’s not that bad, even if he’s definitely been through some things that have changed him for better and worse. And even if he’s still reeling from the fight against Thanos, the funeral, Natasha… he’s still the kid from Brooklyn who wants nothing but to protect those who can’t stand up for themselves. There’s only one time he’s majorly screwed up, and that was not telling Tony the truth about his parents’ deaths. About Howard’s death.

The realisation hits him like a brick wall at a hundred miles per hour. In forty years, Bucky is going to kill Howard, and there’s nothing he can do about it.

‘Steve,’ Stark laughs, oblivious to this fact, ‘I’m sure there’s nothing you need to worry about. It might take her awhile to get over how mad she is over the years we thought you were dead, but she will.’

‘I didn’t mean to, you know.’

‘Yeah, I know. But you should… you should know that I looked for you.’

Rogers feigns a smile, ‘Thank you.’

Howard never gave up on him, but Steve’s not even pondering a way to save him. _It’d be too risky, right?_ Alternate timelines, other universes… it’s all beyond the soldier’s expertise. However hard it is, he has to trust in the more experienced when it comes to this. And Strange, for one, had given an extensive warning before Steve was to put the stones back in their times.

Howard grabs a hold of the Captain’s shoulder, squeezing it tightly.

‘I’m glad you’re back, you know. She will be too.’

‘Yeah.’ _Hopefully._

* * *

Peter stays inside for most of the day. He keeps the guest room’s window open until even the breeze turns scalding hot and he gathers his paper and pen and sits down in the shade by the pool. If the sun keeps burning without a cloud to cover it he can always throw himself into the water. Not that it would feel much different, seeing as much as he’s already sweating buckets.

He’s done lots of thinking. One of the few useful things that he managed to take with him, aside from his web-shooters, is his StarkPhone. It includes a lot of components that could be used to repair the mobius strip. Though taking it apart sends a shiver of grief through him it really can’t be helped. Besides, Pepper can probably get him a new one when they make it home. Providing she doesn’t downright disown him after the whole trapping-her-daughter-in-the-past thing.

‘Sorry Karen,’ he sighs, unlocking the screen for what’s going to be the last time. There’s no service, of course, and a lot of apps are already struggling on his sixteen remaining percent. Dammit, he really should get better at keeping it charged. Mr Stark had custom-made his battery just because of that, for longevity, and still Peter could never-

Tears begin to well up in his eyes as they dart to the messenger app. He clicks it. There’s a new, unread text that Karen sends automatically every day at seven a.m., ten on the weekends. Even though he’s seen it a thousand times before, he soaks up every word now.

**Boss** **:** _Hey kid, hope you’re up to read this!_ _Would be a shame if you’d overslept again._ _This is your daily reminder to nourish your body and whatever, ‘_ _cause you’re no hero swinging around_ _all_ _cranky._ _Also, don’t forget to do your homework_ _or no lab for a month!_ _(At least not to May’s knowledge) -_ _T.S._

Shit. Shit, shit, shit – Peter presses his palms hard into his skull until he’s seeing stars, and still it’s not enough. It’s okay, though. It’s okay, he tells himself, because he’s got four and a half ideas on how to save Tony so far, and two of them are even good. Plausible to work and likely to get Steve-approved. It’s okay, he chants, _it’s okay it’s okay it’s okay._

It’s really not.

Light, bouncing footsteps come bounding out a patio door, dark wood in contrast to the sandy shade of the rest of the house. Maybe it’s meant to look like a desert, with the pool in the centre as a heatstroke's mirage of water. Maybe Howard spent all this money on the mansion just for the irony of it all – it’s easy to get bitter with all this god-forsaken heat.

‘Hey.’

Peter removes his hands, which are now wet, to squint up at the girl in front of him. She’s holding two pastries, dough as golden as parched sand with a pop of reddish pink in the middle.

‘Hi Mor.’ He wipes his eyes once more despite knowing they’ll only fill up again.

‘Ana made raspberry tarts. D’you want one?’

‘Yeah. Thanks.’

Morgan takes her own tart in both hands as he’s been given his, sitting down next to the teen. She peers over at the papers, ‘Are you doing homework again?’

‘No,’ Peter smiles, ‘it’s… just ideas. Thoughts, you know. Sometimes it helps to write stuff down.’

‘Pete?’ she frowns a bit, biting off a big piece of the tart before speaking through the crumbles, ‘Are you sad?’

‘No, I just… Yeah Mor. I’m sad.’ There’s no point denying it, really. She’s probably sad, too, and for the same reason. Perhaps the healthy thing would be to talk about it, together.

‘Are you scared?’

‘Maybe a little. Are you?’

Morgan mulls it over whilst plopping the remaining half of raspberry pastry into her mouth. It’s quite impressive, actually. Parker finds himself doing the same, just for the sake of a shared experience. And maybe, just maybe, to stall talking about heavier stuff. 1940’s cooking isn’t all that bad, really – the dough’s not too dry and there are pockets of sour berries among the sweetness that he really appreciates.

‘Not any more. I was kinda scared when you were gone, though. But we’re all here now, so.’

Peter’s stomach turns, ‘I’m so, so sorry, Mor. I didn’t mean to scare you – I wasn’t thinking.’

‘I know.’ She sucks the last jelly off her sticky fingers.

‘I promise not to do that again, all right?’ he says, pouring as much devotion as he can into the words. He hopes she believes him, even though they haven’t known each other for more than a month. ‘I’ll stay close to you.’

‘Mm. Can we open the box now?’

‘Uh...’ The teen scratches his chin, trying to piece together what she means. ‘What box, Mor?’

‘Steve’s. It says you have to be there too. So I came to get you.’ She turns the puppy stare on, batting her eyes, ‘Please Petey. Pleeeeease.’

‘Steve’s- what, you mean the box he had- the one that said we had to see the Sousa guy?’ Morgan nods. ‘What do you mean it says…? Did you open it?’

Even though they haven’t much discussed the paper box that the Captain claimed to have gotten from someone who knew their future – which is kinda creepy, really – Peter has a feeling Rogers doesn’t want them to touch it.

‘There’s a smaller one inside,’ she explains matter-of-factly, ‘and a note. I noticed it smelled funny, like when daddy showed me how to make invisible ink. So I asked Ana for lemonade and squeezed lemon juice all over the note. It says I can’t open the smaller box unless you’re there.’

‘Wait- wait, hang on. Morgan, are you saying there’s a hidden message on a note in Steve’s box?’

‘Yeah,’ she says, but her face tells him what she really means is _duh._ ‘Come on, Pete. I’ll show you.’

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> next time - peggy finally arrives!
> 
> As always, thanks for all the love I've recieved in the form of kudos and comments! :3 You guys are so sweet! See you Thursday :)


	8. Chapter 8

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> this is for all you steggy shippers :)

Travelling across the country isn’t glorious in any sense of the word. It consists of copious amounts of stops, either to fuel the plane or change to another one. That’s why, when mr Jarvis calls just two hours before her departure to inquire if she can bring the empty vial that used to contain her love’s blood, she asks him to speak with Sousa about a job position. Perhaps the chief could use some help, and she won’t have to sleep off the jet lag on another plane back to New York.

Who knows, perhaps Los Angeles will agree with her.

When the last flight finally lands and Peggy Carter steps down the steep staircase to Californian ground, the first thing that hits her is the heat. She smiles through it, sunglasses already low on her nose. Red, of course, to match the rest of her outfit. At the end of the stairs stands no one else but Edwin Jarvis, carrying an umbrella against the unrelenting sun. It’s so familiar a sight that it feels like it hasn’t been months since they last saw each other, but days.

‘Ms Carter.’

‘Mr Jarvis.’

He steps forward to offer some shade.

‘Thank you for collecting me,’ she says pleasantly once in the shadow of the umbrella – it doesn’t diminish the temperature, but it does lessen the way her pale skin burns. She’ll have to let it get used to the sun again after all the months she’s been sitting hunched over desk-work planning out how to take Dottie Underwood down.

‘Oh, it’s no bother, really.’

They walk slowly up to the beige car Peggy supposes must be one of Howard’s. It’s a convertible – anything with a roof must be boiling at a day such as this – with two rows of seats, though the ones in the back are full of… something.

‘Mr Jarvis, is that bird seeds? In the summer?’

‘Yes, indeed they are. Regrettably, you are not the only house guest to who mr Stark has extended an invitation. He is now the proud owner of a flamingo.’

‘A flamingo.’ Even for Howard, that seems particularly strange.

‘Yes. And despite thinking over the decision to bring Bernard into the Stark household for more than five seconds, mr Stark does not, in fact, know what such a creature might eat. As such, he has sent me out on a quest to find out.’ Jarvis folds the umbrella before opening the passenger door. ‘Shall we?’

Peggy waits until they’re both in the car before she starts asking all of her questions. She needs a few moment to get over the whole _flamingo_ situation. As it is, he beats her to it.

‘Ms Carter, just to clarify – when I said regrettably, I did not mean that to extend to- to mr Rogers.’

Her mood immediately sours a notch.

‘So Howard has taken in the imposter?’

‘With all due respect, I do not think he is one. The Captain seems, undeniably, to be who he says he is.’

‘Mr Jarvis, you do know that a lot of people would benefit from claiming that Captain America has miraculously risen from the dead?’ She watches the surroundings as the car pulls out from the airport. Rows of palm trees greet her, tall and foreign in shape.

‘Yes, I do realise that.’

‘And you do remember just last year, when Dottie Underwood and Johann Fennhoff exploited Howard’s weakness – which is the loss of Steve – to trick him into almost dropping poisonous gas over Time’s Square, which might have killed hundred’s of thousands of people?’

‘Yes, but-’

‘Then what,’ she says, feeling her mood darken even more, ‘makes you so sure this isn’t all a hoax?’

Jarvis searches for the appropriate words but nothing manages to leave his mouth. His floundering gives Peggy a moment or two to calm down.

‘I’m sorry,’ she says at last.

‘It’s quite understandable that, after last year’s V.E. day shenanigans, you’d be… hesitant. I was too, at the beginning – as was mr Stark. So please, believe me when I say that we wouldn’t have asked you to come if we weren’t more or less certain.’

‘How certain?’

She considers it. Jarvis seems to be as sure as he can be, not having met Steve before. Howard must be too or else she wouldn’t have had to come out here. And the person she spoke with on the phone… She can’t say with the utmost certainty if it was just good acting and access to classified information, their last call, or if it was really him.

No. She pushes the glasses higher, settling back into her seat. Steve Rogers is dead – has been for years now. It’s not possible. They have to let him go.

So. When she meets this imposter, she’s going to punch him until he’s seeing stars and stripes, and that’ll be that.

Needless to say, things don’t quite work out the way she’s planned them to.

* * *

Ana Jarvis is a kind, resourceful woman. Steve finds that out when he’s pacing in the living room, right next to the couch he’d slept on the night before, and she takes his hand and leads him to the vast closet in the second guest room. The bed’s been neatly made, the radio on a low volume where it stands on what will soon be Peggy’s night stand.

‘Now, Edwin and Howard’s clothes won’t fit you very well, but I’m sure there’s something we can come up with. That suit must be murderous to walk around in.’

It is. Steve’s sweating almost as much as he would after sparring with Nat or Bruce, once he’d morphed Hulk and Banner into one and the same person.

‘This Peggy Carter – according to Edwin, you two were in love.’

‘We- I mean I, I still am.’

‘Good,’ Ana nods as she sifts through hangers, ‘Then you must look the part of a suitor, don’t you? That costume’s quite flattering, but I don’t think Captain America is the man she fell in love with.’

‘No, I don’t suppose so.’ He still remembers being short and skinny, and having Peggy talk to him like that didn’t matter. And it didn’t, of course. She was one of the few who realised that.

‘This one’s left from a visitor we had – quite tall, perhaps not as muscular as you, but we’ll make do. He and mr Stark had a falling out over some business matter or other. He won’t miss it.’

Ana holds out a pale yellow shirt with brass cufflinks in the form of horseshoes. Not what he would wear, normally. He does want to dress up for Peggy’s sake though, make sure she knows he isn’t just here on a mission, so he’ll make the effort.

‘These, I’m afraid, will be too large on you. Edwin ordered the wrong size, once – mr Stark won’t stop talking about it. But if you give me a minute, I think I can take the pants in.’

‘Oh, you don’t have to-’

‘Nonsense, mr Rogers – I insist! And one could say that I’m not even doing it for you, but for ms Carter.’ Mrs Jarvis gives him a cheeky wink whilst dispersing of the dark grey pants on the bed, leaving a matching jacket in the closet. It’s probably too warm for that, either way. ‘I’ll let you get changed – and perhaps a shower would be good before that? Give me a shout when you’re finished.’

There’s not much else to do but follow the woman’s instructions, and that’s how Steve ends up in some recently tailored pants and a too tight, but not uncomfortably so, shirt an hour later. Ana Jarvis is the fastest sewer he has ever seen. She gushes over the state-of-the-arts sewing machine mr Stark has gifted her with as she pushes the fabric forward. He nods, watching the needle go over the pins faster than even he could ever run. How the seams don’t turn out crooked he has no idea.

She clips the excess material away, finishes up the raw edges, and then they’re both waiting on the porch. Morgan seems to have run off with Peter, according to Ana. Howard’s wandered off to who knows where. It’s just them.

‘You’re nervous,’ she observes.

‘I’ve dreamt of this a long time.’

‘You were stuck in the future, I’ve heard. I don’t know what to think of that, but – whatever happened, wherever you were, it must have been different. Difficult.’

‘There was so much to get used to, so many… new things.’ He laughs quietly as he remembers the first time he learned about Google. ‘To be honest, even though I always missed this, it still feels wrong in a sense. Like I’m dreaming, and I’m going to wake up soon and it’ll be gone again.’

He doesn’t mean for sorrow to bleed through at the end of the sentence but Ana gives him a reassuring side-hug. ‘Don’t worry, we’re not going anywhere.’

The black iron gate opening is what notifies them of the arriving guest. One of Howard’s flashier convertibles rounds the decorative circle of grass in the middle of the driveway. It stops just three steps from the edge of the porch. Steve could get to it in five – two leaps if he’s going as fast as his heart is beating.

‘Go on then,’ she nudges him forward. He doesn’t need to be told twice.

Peggy Carter’s been preserved just like the photograph in Steve’s compass. She’s a timeless beauty, every wave of her hair the same. Only a bit longer now. She still wears that bold red lipstick that’s so smack-in-your-face that no one could ever forget meeting _the_ Agent Carter. Though he knows that she hasn’t been frozen in time, only experienced fewer years than him since they parted ways, it still feels like it. The way she makes him nervous, his very soul grow weak with longing and the uncertainty of the future, if he’ll live it with her – it’s exactly the same as before. It’s _her._ It’s Steve Rogers who’s speaking to a woman for the first time, and she’s talking back to him. Smiling.

He doesn’t really breathe when she exits the car, or when mr Jarvis starts to lead her up the stairs – he doesn’t breathe when she looks up and notices him, stopping on the bottom step. He doesn’t think he’ll ever breathe again. He thinks he’s okay with that.

‘Ms Carter,’ Edwin says softly, ‘this is mr Steven Rogers. But you already knew that, of course.’

Peggy was angry when she stepped out of the car. She had her lips pursed, determined with that look Sharon had quoted on her funeral – and Steve almost cries when he thinks of that, of carrying the coffin down an aisle he’d never walk her down hand in hand. _Even if the whole world is telling you to move, it is your duty to plant yourself like a tree, look them in the eye, and say, 'No,_ _you_ _move'_.

Now, all that’s gone.

She’s not angry. She’s in shock. And he’s still not breathing, because she isn’t looking at him like the ninety-year old Peggy that keeps forgetting he’s alive. Nor like the younger, but still old Director Carter with the brown package in her hands and his photograph on her desk. She’s looking at him as… as if she’s going to slap him and kiss him at the same time, but mostly like she can’t believe her eyes.

‘Edwin, would you like some help with miss Carter’s luggage?’ Ana asks, already making for the car.

‘Why, that would be very kind of you,’ Edwin says as he follows her.

Peggy takes one step up.

‘Steve?’

‘Yeah,’ Steve chokes out. She ascends another step.

‘Is- is it…’

‘It’s me.’

‘What- but what- what happened? How-’

She’s at his level now, in the place Ana once stood when they were still waiting – but all that’s over now, because Peggy’s here. Beside him. Finally.

‘I didn’t mean to be gone for so long,’ he says, and then there’s so much else he has to tell her. Like how many years he spent dreaming of this moment, wishing he could return, and how he lost hope but never quite let her go, and it’s been eleven years but it was all so, so incredibly worth it.

Steve takes the final step left between them and wraps his arms around her. She holds him like he’s about to disappear again, and quite frankly, so does he.

‘Oh lord,’ she mumbles into his shoulder.

‘I’m so sorry. I wish- it hadn’t been like this, I wish I could’ve… I never thought I’d see you again.’

‘I thought you were dead.’

_I watched them lower you into the ground,_ he wants to answer, but he can’t. It hasn’t happened yet. She’s alive, and she will be for seventy more years. It’s plenty. More than he could ever have wished for.

Peggy pulls back, studying his face. Maybe she notices the beginning of lines around his eyes or all the other signs of age and change, but whatever it is, it makes her smile. There’s a tear running down the corner of her eye, and just like that Steve feels his own ones fall and the numbing shock disappear.

She’s beautiful. They lean forward at the same time to finally, breathlessly, kiss.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> :')
> 
> On Sunday we'll be getting back to Peter and Morgan again, but Steve and Peggy just really deserved a whole chapter dedicated to their reunion!


	9. Chapter 9

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> now that we've had our steggy moment *squeals* it's time for some lemons and maybe even a surprise guest! (don't check the updated tags if you don't want any spoilers!)

Peter should have gone to Steve earlier. It’s completely his own fault – he’d promised himself as well as the soldier to be frank, that they wouldn’t go behind each other’s backs, but there’s honestly not been one good moment when he could have notified the Captain.

This time, Parker doesn’t even mean to sneak off. He’s honestly just following Morgan.

First she leads him to the guest room they’d slept in where she’s already brought the box. It sits on their queen’s bed, perfectly innocent. The string’s been discarded on the floor. She shoves the lid off, plopping down on the soft comforter hard enough to make the mattress bounce.

‘Here,’ she points at the still drying note beside the mysterious, open package. It has a short message written in blue ink at the top. Another one in faint, light brown letters sits at the bottom.

‘I thought you were supposed to write the message with lemon water and then heat it up to see it,’ Peter mumbles as he lifts the paper to read.

‘That’s not how daddy does it.’

Of course Tony invented a new way to write spy notes. But that means whoever penned this one definitely aimed it specifically at Morgan. And, well, there’s the message too;

_Hello Morgan, I knew you_ _woul_ _d figure this out. Please go get Peter before you open the next box – it’s very important that he’s there too._

There’s no signature, nothing to indicate who’s written it, though Peter feels vaguely familiar with the handwriting. He should really have taken that penmanship elective in his junior year. Maybe then he’d pay more attention to stuff like this.

‘So… it says here that we should open it.’

‘Yeah,’ Morgan swings her legs excitedly. ‘Can I do it?’

‘Yeah, uh- just, be careful okay? We don’t know what’s in there.’

‘Mm hm,’ she says, already lifting the somewhat, but not much, smaller package out of the larger box. She struggles slightly as she does, so whatever’s in there has to be at least kinda heavy. Peter listens intently to his spider-sense for any indication that the unknown object might be dangerous.

It looks like a square shoe-box, as nondescript brown on the outside as the other. This one doesn’t have any unnecessary wrapping around it – only identical, though a tad thicker, string. Morgan unties the knot with nimble fingers. Her face brims with excitement as she lifts the lid… and then falls with disappointment.

‘What is it?’ Peter asks, sitting down next to her with their gift between them. The inside of it confuses him – at first it seems incredibly shallow, but then it dawns on him.

‘It’s just another one,’ the girl sighs, annoyed. Another hidden mystery. Another box. Whoever packed and planned all of this really had a thing for the dramatics.

‘That can’t be it. I mean – that note told us to open it, so why-’

A yellowed tint of colour catches his eye. It’s a thin line of what looks like folded paper – an envelope – crammed into the tight space between the cardboard inside and outside of box number two and the still unopened number three. If not for Peter’s unusually sticky fingers, he’d never have gotten it out at all.

‘To Morgan and Peter,’ he reads off the dusty front.

‘Open it!’

The glue on the back has long since lost its power and the flap folds open as if it hasn’t been sealed at all. Inside there’s a letter consisting of more than one sheet of paper. The first aged, frail page contains a list – Peter draws in a sharp breath. The headline makes his head spin.

_Saving Tony Ideas_

‘I wrote this.’

He walks back to the writing desk where he’d put his paper and pen down just moments ago. There lies his list – the one he’s been writing on all day, irrefutably identical to the one that’s just been fished out of the envelope.

‘What?’ Morgan asks, sliding down onto the floor.

The pages are identical, save for one thing. The older one sports a ring of red ink around one of the passages. Someone from the future has circled an idea for saving Tony, and it isn’t the one Peter has most faith in. It’s actually the worst one.

‘Well, shit.’

* * *

The rest of the letter is equally promising once they get to reading it.

Turns out the rest of the papers in the envelope, which are all blank for now, have the same smell as the hidden message Morgan found before. Thus the kids need more lemon juice and a place to let the pages dry. Ana’s disappeared to somewhere – Peter hears a sewing machine rattle elsewhere in the house and decides not to disturb her. They take their chances and steal the rest of the lemons and lemonade from the kitchen. And two glasses, because it’s a hot summer day and the sweet drink has managed to stay cool this long. It would be a shame to let it all go to waste.

He balances the pitcher and a handful of lemons behind his back as they make it outside. Howard approaches from another house in the cluster of buildings that make up the mansion; the fruit and envelope in Morgan’s hands, the teen can’t do anything about, but hopefully Stark’s too busy to notice and question their theft.

‘Hi,’ Peter says in passing, hoping they won’t draw too much attention. Mr Stark looks up from the notebook he’s carrying, barely glancing at them.

‘Oh, hello.’ The inventor goes on his way without another word.

‘He’s weird,’ Morgan decides.

‘Definitely.’

‘Come on!’ She bounces off in the direction of the door Howard just came out of, and Peter tries to shift all the lemons so that he can grab her arm.

‘Hey, hey – I don’t think we’re supposed to go in there.’

‘So?’

‘Uh...’ _Damn, why are kids so intimidating?_ ‘He… might come back?’

‘It’s probably his lab. We can use it.’ Morgan cocks her head to the side, giving him a look that could be taken straight off of Tony’s face. ‘He won’t mind. Especially if he doesn’t find out.’

Peter really can’t argue with that.

The ground floor is near bare of anything, with empty rooms holding only moving boxes scattered about. There’s a storage closet for some kinds of metals near a staircase that lures them down with the whiff of a promising chill coming from below.

The basement’s at least ten feet underground. It has no AC but it doesn’t need any – it’s blissfully cool anyway. They unload themselves on a table that doesn’t seem to hold any possibly explosive materials before setting to work – Morgan goes to look at the disassembled mobius strips Howard’s been working on, but Peter quickly steers her away. A shiver runs down his back as he remembers last time she did that.

‘We gotta find something to cut the lemons with if we aren’t gonna use the lemonade,’ he says, hoping to distract her.

‘I wanna drink it.’

‘Okay. Well, there’s gotta be something around here.’ He skips around a handful of sharp metal scraps on the floor. Perhaps mr Jarvis has a spare pair of shoes he could borrow – if they’re too big, he’ll fill the toes out with newspaper like he did for Morgan. There’s a saw hanging from a shelf across the room, dusty and old. It’ll do.

A clatter and a splashing sounds, soon followed by a small whine – he turns to see the pitcher overturned, lemonade spilled everywhere, including over a very sour-looking girl.

‘I was just gonna pour it up,’ she glares at her empty glass and the puddle forming on the table, dripping down onto the floor with sugary stickiness. Her bottom lip trembles.

‘It’s all right-’ he scrambles to shove the few electronics away from the spreading lemonade sea, grabbing an oil-stained cloth and trying to salvage what he can- ‘it’s okay, Mor, really. Look, most of the papers got covered, so now we won’t need to cut up all these lemons. That’s good, huh?’

The cloth doesn’t last long and there’s nothing else in the lab that he dares use to soak up the mess. After he’s drenched all three pages and hung them to dry from the ceiling, using some clothes-pins and the edge of a shelf, he tries to shove as much of the puddle onto the floor as he can. Howard would probably prefer that over ruining the wooden table.

‘I’m gonna go find some towels or something. Do you wanna come, or… watch the paper dry?’

‘I think there’s some left,’ Morgan says, tipping the pitcher dangerously to the side to see inside it again. Peter takes it from her and pours up the last drops.

‘There you go,’ he smiles, feeling oddly proud of himself. He’s managed to get her glass half full. ‘You gonna be okay until I’m back?’

‘Mm hm. Bye, Pete.’

Content with her lemonade, Morgan sits down on a chair that’s been spared from the drink disaster. Peter smiles again, teeming with pride. She never started crying – now there’s not even a tear in her eye. He consoled her. Maybe he isn’t that bad a god-brother after all.

The moving boxes upstairs don’t seem to hold many valuables. Sure, there’s the odd invention and expensive looking item, but they’ve all been thrown into a heap of stuff that tells him they can’t be that important. He finds a rag, torn and filthy but dry, and drags the heavy fabric down the stairs. Before it met its terrible fate, which Peter figures must’ve been getting mauled by a bear or something, the thing might have been a curtain. It’s incredibly long and refuses to stay in the neat bundle he’d figured he could carry in his arms. After the third time it unravels into a snake-like trail behind him, he just sighs and pulls it along. It’s not like it was clean to begin with.

‘They’re starting to get visible,’ Morgan informs him as the teen dumps the curtain on the wet floor of the basement. _There. Fixed it._

‘What’s it say?’

‘Dunno. Too far away.’ She squints up at the cursive writing, and only then does Peter realise that not every four and a half year old reads complex sentences. Not every four and a half year old even reads _at all._

Tony and Pepper’s kid. Right.

‘I’ll read it aloud, okay?’ Even if she could read it all by herself, he doesn’t want to overestimate her into low confidence. Besides, who knows what the letter might say?

‘Okay.’

He tugs the first paper away from the pin it’s hung from. The page is still wet and most words are faint, but with enhanced sight and more patience than he’s had in days at hand, things slowly work their way out and sentences begin to form.

‘ _The space-time continuum is a fragile thing – relatively easy to bend, and easier still to unravel. You must tread carefully._ ’

‘Thread?’ Morgan frowns.

‘Uh, no. Tread means walk, kinda. It says we gotta be careful is all.’

‘With what?’

‘Well… seeing as we’re in the past...’ Peter realises no one’s properly sat her down and made sure she understands what’s happened to them. She’s perceptive, but does she really know they’re in the 20th century? ‘You know we’ve gone back in time, right?’

‘Uh huh.’

Well, she’s four – for all she knows time travel might be a regular occurrence.

‘So, uh, we know all these future stuff, right? And if we tell someone in the past about something important that they’re not supposed to know yet, we could change the past, and that would mess up our future.’

She blinks slowly at him.

‘Basically, what it boils down to… There are a lot of complicated rules that we gotta be mindful of, okay?’

‘Okay.’

‘Okay. Next part reads...’ Peter blows on the paper, hoping it’ll speed up the drying process. ‘ _What you’re looking to accomplish is no light feat. There are multiple possible futures from here on. Some paths, I cannot allow you to walk down, and some you won’t accept as yours to take. But whatever happens, happens. Perhaps this will be your second chance, perhaps not. But there won’t be a third. Time couldn’t handle it; the multiverse would rip apart and you’d most likely be stuck in a…_ uh, _a time loop._

‘Uh… So basically, we have one shot at saving Tony. And it might not work.’ He swallows, waiting for her to take that in. She nods gravely.

‘Okay.’

‘ _I have copied one of the pages from a tome on the study of time. It’s from my personal collection;_ _i_ _t will explain the_ _stakes._ ’ He glances to the two papers that are still hanging, swirling slowly around themselves like dust falling in an empty room. Peter doesn’t like to think about dust so he doesn’t dwell on that thought.

Morgan’s resting her head on her hands, lower lip stuck out in a pout. The excitement’s long gone out of her eyes with all the grown-up words at hand. ‘Does it say anything ‘bout daddy? Anything not weird?’

‘Well, kinda, but not really… not yet. Maybe there’s something about who drew the circle on my list-’

The spider-sense tingles to life, light prickling at the back of his head that turns into cold spikes of fear in the span of a mere second. There’s no time to look for the danger – he grabs Morgan and whisks them both up and onto the ceiling. He crouches, upside down, with her laying protected between him and the concrete, head whipping back and forth in wait for the threat to be unveiled.

For a few seconds he expects it to be Howard. He’ll be shocked, Peter’ll be embarrassed and it’ll be just fine. The more time drones on, the more dread rises into his chest. _Dammit, I really_ _shouldn’t_ _have left the web shooters in the bedroom. Since when don’t I wear them all the time?!_

‘Show yourself!’ His voice cracks near the end – whatever it is, _whoever_ it is, he’s probably met worse, but with Morgan present and without a suit to shield them… things could go wrong. Really wrong.

‘Are we on the ceiling Petey?’ she asks, astonished, into his chest.

‘Yeah. You gotta lie still, Mor, I don’t know what’s happening.’

‘Wow.’

A shuffling of fabric follows. The ragged curtains are moving, as if something’s stuck in their midst, trying to get out. _Shit – please don’t let it be a snake, please don’t let me have carried a venomous snake_ _around_ _or some kind of scorpion – shit shit shit!_

The dirty fabric parts and something, red and large, flies out. Peter recoils a few steps on the ceiling, heart racing as the object soars through the room like fricking Thor or something- then he realises, he’s seen it before.

The red velvet cape freezes mid-air, right in front of them. The collar turns to the side, as if an invisible person wearing it were cocking their head in question.

_Oh thank god._

‘You’re the cloak of levitation, right? Strange’s cloak!’

The sentient garment does a spin, as if to say _exactomundo, ta-da, how can I be of service?_ Peter slowly lowers himself and Morgan to the floor. Her eyes are as wide as saucers.

‘Wow Pete. It’s floating!’

‘Wait, does this mean Doctor Strange is here? Like, in this century?’ The cloak does its questioning gesture again. ‘Oh. So you’re like… the past cloak. The cloak, in the past. And you’re from the past too. I mean, you didn’t travel through time, did you?’

The red fabric shakes back and forth like a human would their head. Then it lowers itself, holding out part of its hem to Morgan, and shakes her hand enthusiastically. She giggles.

‘How did you get here?’ Peter asks. Howard Stark isn’t secretly a sorcerer, is he?

The cloak makes a series of vague spins and flaps for the duration of a fairly long explanation. Maybe it’s akin to sign language, but he doesn’t speak that, so… When the magical object takes its bow, they’re really none the wiser.

‘He’s funny,’ Morgan grins.

‘Okay… can you, uh, write it down?’ The teen searches for blank paper but the cloak stops him with a tap on the shoulder. It swishes through the air, stopping by the stairs as if waiting for them to follow.

‘He wants us to come with. Come on Pete!’ She jumps ahead to join the floating heap of fabric, but as soon as she nears its place she jumps back, startled. The spider-sense flares up again. It’s the same urgent warning as before, chanted to the beat of his heart; _you’re not alone, you’re not alone, you’re not alone._

‘Morgan!’

There’s a hooded figure at the top of the staircase. The intruder wears yellow robes, intricately woven into criss-crossing patterns across the chest and flapping coat panels. They – she, Peter realises – lowers her hood to reveal a neatly shaven head. The light catches a glimmer of gold at her chest, and in its midst, a glow of green.

_Holy hell. T_ _hat’s the time stone._

‘Peter Parker. Morgan Stark.’ The bald lady smiles mysteriously. ‘I hear that you’re rather lost. I’ve been sent to retrieve you.’

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> fun fact - if I'm writing an infinity war/endgame fixit, there's a 2/3 chance that the Ancient One is going to be in it. Whether the story focuses on Peter or Thor (see my first work on this site, Revival, which I wrote for four days straight after coming home distraught from the IW premier) she'll be there.
> 
> I just think she's neat.
> 
> Also, she has a lot of answers... but more on that Thursday! :)


	10. Chapter 10

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> let me introduce:
> 
> two new characters that will become very important to the story!

_September, 2023_

Pepper’s resetting the table for a last minute guest when she hears it. The fourth plate in her hand slips and shatters against the floor – that’s not the scream Morgan lets out when her dad throws her into the lake in summer, it’s not even the rare tantrum she’ll have after a day of over-exhaustion. It’s a terrified, wretchedly chilling one that could send even god itself into shock and she’s at the scene in less than ten seconds, but that’s all it takes.

The garage is a mess, even more so than usually. The shelves are almost empty, all of their stuff, memories, pots and old awards strewn over the floor. There’s one clean spot, a circle in which absolutely nothing persists, and it smells like ozone and burnt flesh.

‘Morgan?’ Pepper calls, afraid that the answer will come from underneath the rubble. As the seconds tick by, she begins to fear it won’t come at all.

‘Morgan? Peter? Answer me!’

She begins to dig through the ankle-deep wasteland, cursing as she cuts her palm open on broken glass. It doesn’t matter – an ugly, broken pain claws at her chest and she’s scared because it’s been minutes now and she still can’t find her baby.

‘Shit.’ She fumbles with her phone when she’s pretty much gone through all of the garage. _Peter Parker_ lights up the home screen as she presses the cell to her ear, begging him to pick up. _I won’t even be mad if she’s with you, if it’s a failed experiment_ _you shouldn’t have been doing_ _behind my back_ _. I won’t be mad, just pick up._

‘ _The number you have entered has been temporarily disconnected, changed, or is no longer in service._ ’

‘Shit, Peter. _Shit._ ’

She finds the blueprint soon enough. She asks FRIDAY about everything the limited AI managed to pick up on what’s happened – Tony hadn’t wanted to install her into the whole house, claiming there was no need. They’d scaled back, even washing the dishes by hand. FRIDAY may not have a recording of the moment but she has details enough that the full picture can be pieced together easily enough. The scream, the smell lingering in the air. The spare parts of a mobius strip underneath broken vases on the floor.

Rhodey finds Pepper hunched over a glowing hologram of the cursed time travel suit.

‘Spring cleaning?’ he quips, but then sobers as soon as he sees her face. ‘What happened in here?’

She shakes her head, still in denial, gesturing for FRIDAY to shut down the blueprint. It’s too much to think about.

‘I need to talk to Strange.’

* * *

_May, 1947_

Bald lady’s studying their lemon-drenched secret message.

She moves between the pages, humming at places, stopping for a closer look at others. The letters are almost fully developed now, crisp and brown in the lamp-light of the basement. Peter’s given up on trying to understand them. Aside from the note he began reading to Morgan, scarcely any of it is in English, and what little is just sounds like muddled gibberish.

‘Hm,’ bald lady hums one final time, nodding before turning to face them once more. ‘It seems you’ve changed the past. Or rather, my future.’

‘Wait, what?’

She gestures with her hands and a glowing orange spark fills the room, forming a string of light that goes from one wall to the other – and perhaps even beyond that.

‘This is the flow of time. You travelled from here-’ she taps one point in the thread to her right- ‘to here.’ She taps another to her left. ‘Once here, you did something; perhaps a tiny action, perhaps a large one, I couldn’t tell. And it changed the course of time.’

Her fingers draw up another string, sprouting like a branch from the main one.

‘You mean we created an alternative universe?’ Peter gapes, watching the shorter string of light slowly grow as each second ticks by.

‘An alternate timeline, yes. A branch that may, or may not, be intertwined with your future.’ She smiles again, as mysterious and unnerving as the first time. ‘Allow me to introduce myself. I am the Ancient One, Sorceress Supreme.’

‘O-okay,’ he stammers. Those are two equally intimidating titles.

‘What’s a saucer-ess?’ Morgan asks, playing with the cloak of levitation’s wide hem. It doesn’t seem to mind.

‘Kinda like a magician,’ he answers and the Ancient One laughs.

‘Yes, perhaps it is.’

‘So… what d’you mean the branch can, uh, _intertwine_ with the future?’

‘If the change is small enough to alter events short term, but not long term, the branch may unite with the future you come from,’ she explains, looking at the pages of their letter. ‘These are copied pages from the book of Cagliostro, taken from my own private collection. Meddled into the text are notes I’ve never seen before, but that bear my handwriting. I assume they’ve been written by me either me in the future or in the past of your timeline. You see, I am able see possible futures, and sometimes I take actions to prepare myself for them. Perhaps I did, and then sent the notes here...’

She continues to study the papers whilst Peter’s head spins. None of this seems to make any sense whatsoever.

‘But… how could you send something between timelines?’

‘With this,’ the Ancient One holds up her fingers. She’s wearing a thick, bronze ring over two of them. ‘It’s a sling ring. It allows one to travel anywhere within the multiverse, if you know your destination well enough.’

‘ _Multiverse?_ ’ he splutters, ‘You- you’re saying there’s a _multiverse?_ I thought you meant there wasn’t such a thing, when you corrected me before- but this, this is _awesome._ ‘Cause I thought that was theoretical, I mean that completely changes how we understand the initial singularity- that’s _insane-_ ’

He stops before he can rant any longer, twisting his face into an apologetic smile. Right. He’s talking to a sorceress from 1947 and a four and a half year old who may be smart, but hasn’t even started school yet. ‘Sorry.’

‘Yes, Peter Parker.’ She smiles, amused. ‘There is a multiverse.’

‘Can we travel to save daddy, then?’ Morgan asks, eyeing the ring with interest.

The Ancient One hums to herself, as if she’s piecing together a puzzle and the kid’s just solved a vital part of it. ‘You’re on a dangerous quest. Changing the past – your own past – has consequences.’

‘I know, it said so in the letter.’

‘You read Sanskrit?’

‘Uh…’ He glances to the gibberish pages still hanging from the shelf. ‘No, I meant the first page- hang on, I think I put it somewhere around here...’ When the cloak of levitation unexpectedly showed up he’d literally dropped everything to save Morgan. It takes a bit of searching, but then he finally finds the page sticking out from underneath a cabinet. ‘Here. I don’t suppose this is your hand writing too, is it?’

She skims through the paragraphs, both the first few Peter has already read and the ones he has yet to discover. Then, she nods.

‘The last few sentences are meant for me. It says here that you’ve received word on your future elsewhere?’

‘Uh… oh, right! Yeah, I made this list of ideas about what to do next, and someone circled one of the options. I mean, in the future, and then they sent it back to now. Or in the other timeline – I’m still not sure how that works. Either way, that means it’s the one I’m meant to do, right?’

‘Perhaps,’ she answers cryptically. ‘I see many possible outcomes of this meeting. The future’s still to be decided.’

‘Okay,’ he wrings his hands nervously, ‘Right.’

‘This option, it’s not the one you had wished for,’ she guesses.

‘No, it’s uh… I just thought there was another way, a better one.’ He swallows thickly. _Pull yourself together – it doesn’t matter. Whatever it takes, right? If it’s gonna bring Tony back, it’s worth the_ _risk, the_ _cost._

‘Anyways,’ he continues, desperate for a change of conversation, ‘you said you were gonna, uh, _retrieve_ us?’

‘I’ve been in contact with a man from the future. I think you might know him – his name is Doctor Stephen Strange.’

‘O-oh. He’s- he’s not here, is he?’ Doctor Strange would positively kill Peter if he knew they’d created a new timeline whilst messing with the past.

‘We spoke, through great effort, in our astral forms with the use of the eye of Agamotto. You may know it as the time stone.’

The time stone. Yeah, he knows about that, all right. It’s the thing Strange gave up to save Tony on Titan, and it’s also one of the six whose powers destroyed mr Stark’s body when he used them on Thanos. To be honest, it gives Parker the creeps.

‘Apparently your disappearance from the future hasn’t gone unnoticed,’ the Ancient One continues. ‘Strange was notified, and he in turn asked me to make sure you were all right, and assist you on your ways back if needed.’

‘Wait, you mean… we won’t just return the second we disappeared, like in the movies? I mean- we’re still gonna make it back, right?’ Cold fear rises in his throat. He can’t be stuck here – what about Morgan? She’s already lost her father, is she going to have to grow up without a mother too? In an alien time, an alien world? No, it can’t be- They have to get back, they just have to.

What will Aunt May do, if she loses him like she lost Ben, her brother, her parents?

‘As I said, the future is not yet set. I could send you back, if your means of time travel-’ she throws a pointed glance at the mobius strips where they lie, disassembled- ‘would fail you, but I do not think I should. Not yet. You came here for a second chance, did you not? To right what you’ve decided to be wrong.’

‘Wait… you’re saying you’ll help us?’

She cocks her head a bit to the side, yellow robes shifting along her slender form. ‘I won’t stop you in trying, as long as it doesn’t endanger the space-time continuum. Your past must stay intact – all must _seem_ to play out exactly like it did in your memory.’

Peter nods, processing this. At least they’re not being sent back to the future before he can try his plan out. The Ancient One observes him, waiting patiently for his next question.

‘So… the list, it suggested an option that, uh… would alter my past quite a lot. I mean, it would eliminate Tony snapping- uh, important things from happening. Unless there’s, uh… a spell or something, that could help me?’

‘Perhaps. Or perhaps there’s something else you could use.’

‘Are we saving daddy or not?’ Morgan pipes up, shuffling her feet with confusion written all over her features. All the back and forth must be exhausting her.

‘Yes, Mor. We just gotta figure out how.’

‘What ‘bout the finit stones?’ she asks, twirling the cloak around her arm like a cast, ‘Mommy said they can do anything, and the bad guys got them and that’s why daddy…’ She frowns, tightening the fabric until it’s turning her hand white and the sentient cloak unravels itself lest it harm her further.

‘The infinity stones,’ the Ancient One says, nodding to herself. Her puzzle seems to be near complete now. ‘Ah. Such power can’t be harnessed by only one person without being fatal, and I don’t think your brother would let you help him.’

Peter shakes his head, chest tightening. ‘It’s what I gotta do. The list, it-’

‘There are often more ways than one to accomplish something. Perhaps the note on your list doesn’t tell the exact future, but is only to serve as a nudge in a different direction than you originally intended to walk in.’

He shakes his head, turning away – he can’t look Morgan in the eye, not right now. She begs for any scrap of hope, a promise of a happy ending, but life is seldom so simple. The lists are both back in their guest bedroom. They tell him to take Tony’s place, to die.

_Whatever it takes,_ _b_ _ut she can’t know – she won’t understand._ _She might even mourn me._

_At least it’s a good thing we’ve only known each other for a month._

‘You underestimate how much you’d be missed,’ the Ancient One speaks up, soft and kind. He startles. Did she just read his mind? ‘Remember this, Peter. You don’t have to go through anything alone, especially not something as massive as this. Trust in your friends, in your family. Let them help you.’

But that’s exactly the problem, isn’t it? Because Uncle Ben promised him they’d be back at his parent’s house the very next day, and then the fire came and there was only funerals and sad, old relatives he barely knew and never did he get to come home. And then, when Peter cried himself to sleep, Ben would promise he’d always be there to fend off the monsters under the bed. His and May’s house would be home now. Then he got murdered, and they had to move because she couldn’t afford the rent any longer.

Every time the teen believes anyone when it matters, in life and death, and entrusts fate in them, they get themselves killed.

And Tony. The last time Peter reached out for him was on Titan, when Tony lied and said everything would be all right. Then he died, and mr Stark soon thereafter.

‘How?’

‘It’s a leap of faith,’ the sorceress shrugs, ‘that’s all it really is. You never know who’s going to catch you.’

‘Are you sad again, Pete?’ Morgan steps forward. ‘’Cause when I’m sad, I ask mommy for a hug and then it’s all better.’

‘Oh Mor.’ He sweeps her off the floor, holding her tight, burrowing his nose into her hair.

‘Don’t worry,’ she pats his head, ‘we’re gonna get daddy back.’

‘Yeah,’ he breathes. ‘Yeah we are.’

‘You have much to discuss,’ the Ancient One says, walking past them towards the floating cloak, ‘so I shan’t bother you any longer. I’ll give you a piece of advice before I go – I don’t do this often, so listen carefully. _Share your burden._ ’

She nods gravely afterwards, as if that settles it, and turns to walk away. ‘Goodbye, Peter Parker and Morgan Stark.’

‘Cloakie!’ Morgan whines as the cloak drifts up the stairs after the woman. It turns once, looking hesitant, regretful, but inevitably trudges after its master. ‘Don’t go…’

‘I don’t think it was supposed to be here in the first place, Mor.’

He shakes his head, gathering his thoughts. _Share your burden…_ _I don’t think your brother would let you help him…_ _Trust in your friends, let them help you…_

‘Using the infinity stones on my own would kill me,’ he mumbles to himself, ‘but if it was shared, if… perhaps if we shared the burden...’

‘Huh?’

He snaps out of it, hoisting her higher on his hip. ‘Morgan, this is really important. We gotta take all these papers to Steve and talk to him.’ _Like we should have in the first place._ ‘It’s really important if we’re to save dad.’

‘Finally,’ she grins, eagerly jumping down to collect their stuff. _Finally,_ Peter silently agrees.

* * *

_September, 2023_

Stephen Strange is not a patient man, for all he makes himself out to be one. Pepper realises that soon after his talk with the other sorcerer that’s in the past – how all that works she doesn’t care, as long as this person knows what’s happened to her daughter – after which he’s left pacing back and forth.

‘They should be here by now,’ he keeps muttering, ‘Ancient One, why don’t you answer me? Send them here, they should be here by now...’

‘What’s going on?’ Rhodey asks, growing irritated himself. It’s been hours since the children went missing. Pepper agrees with the doctor on this one; they should be here by now. They should be _home._

‘We agreed on a time, here, in the future, when she’d send the kids to. It’s passed now.’ Strange scratches his chin, annoyed, and flaps back the collar of his cloak in frustration.

‘So she’s not going to do it?’ Rhodey stands, too restless to sit idly any more, ‘How sure are you that she’s trustworthy?’

‘Very. She must have a good reason for it, or...’

‘She didn’t find them,’ Pepper finishes, also standing. ‘Or something went wrong, and she couldn’t do it. Either way this isn’t going to work.’

The doctor stops his pacing at her detached words. ‘You have another option in mind?’ he guesses.

‘We thought we destroyed every trace of the quantum realm suits, but there’s still one blueprint left. We take it to Bruce, have him make me one. I’ll go back and get them myself.’

Her hands ball into fists as she watches the sorcerer for any hint of disagreement. Even though one more person in the past might screw up time even more, she’s sure as hell not going to leave her kids there. Never in a million years. He can say anything he wants about that but it won’t matter. She’s doing this.

To Pepper’s surprise, it isn’t Strange who speaks up against her.

‘Pep,’ Rhodey begins.

‘ _No,_ ’ she snaps, emotion threatening to well up past her walls and drown her, ‘I don’t care about the oath we took never to mess around with time travel again – I’m getting them home, you know I have to-’

‘Hey, I wasn’t gonna stop you!’ He throws both hands up in the air, waving his innocence. ‘I’m just saying we gotta make sure Bruce makes two. Morgan’s as good as my niece, and Peter’s… Peter. If you’re going, I am too.’ He sighs, rubbing one hand across his head like he can’t believe his own words. Then he lays it on her shoulder; a solemn promise.

‘I’ve done this before – I can help. It’s what Tony would’ve wanted. We’re getting them home, whatever it takes.’

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The Ancient One's explanation about the 'branch time-line' was inspired by an article I now can't find that I read just after Endgame came out, about how Steve going back created a pocket alternate universe(?) or something in the likes that could then be entertwined with the main time-line in 2023 (when he greets Sam and Bucky as an old man). I'm not sure whether it was a fan theory or insight from the writers or the russos
> 
> Either way, Pepper and Rhodey! :D I love them.


	11. Chapter 11

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> plans are made, both in 1947 and 2023

‘That’s… not what I expected.’

Steve is exhausted. Drained. He leans back against the cushions of Howard’s finest couch, grip slacking around the lukewarm cup of tea. Explaining everything, as much of the story as he saw fit – he might have glossed over just how big of a catastrophe he’d gone back the first time to right, and the whole Peggy giving him the box thing – has taken the larger part of an hour. It’s done more for him than any support group meeting he’s ever held.

‘It sounds crazy,’ he agrees.

‘Yes,’ Peggy says. She hasn’t even sipped her own cup, devoting her full attention to him instead. Her knee graces his. It’s a large couch, but neither of them is moving away. ‘The truth often does. Either you hit your head very hard, or it’s… true.’

‘I wish I could take this as well as you,’ Howard says. They found him not long after Peggy arrived. Once Steve let on he’d tell the long version of the story Stark had been eager to abandon his project to listen.

‘You can check me for any head wounds, but you won’t find any. Besides, if I was going for a fake explanation I’d do a better job at making it believable.’

Ana and Edwin Jarvis sit on two chairs taken from the dining room, wearing similar pale frowns. It had only been fair to have them be here too. They’d housed and fed Rogers and the kids – virtual strangers to the both of them – without a second thought.

‘And here I thought Leviathan would be the great adventure of my lifetime,’ Edwin swallows.

‘You still haven’t told us what happened to the kids,’ Ana says, ‘I can’t imagine anyone sending a five year old on such a mission as you described.’

‘No, that was wholly an accident. Their… I mean, Morgan’s dad, he’s dead. They were going to fix that, messed around with some broken technology and ended up here.’

‘Damn,’ Howard says. Even though the tea’s not what it once was, Steve drinks to that.

‘He was a good man,’ the Captain adds, ‘We had our falling outs, but on the whole, I counted him as a friend. I understand why they did it, but… you can’t mess with the past.’

‘And still you told us all of this,’ Peggy remarks.

‘It’s far enough in the future that you won’t, uh...’

‘Be alive to see it,’ Howard finishes for him, nodding deep in thought. ‘What year are your from now again?’

‘I can’t tell you that.’

‘What about future technology? I mean, some of the things I found in that bracelet were truly advanced, and some of the material compositions have either not been discovered or invented yet. Just think of all the things I could do with a piece of that-’

‘Howard,’ Peggy disciplines him.

‘What? I’m just saying, I could solve most of the world’s problems with all that at my disposal.’

‘I’ve already told you more than you should know,’ Steve says wearily. ‘Maybe I shouldn’t have, but I couldn’t lie any longer.’

‘Your secrets are safe with us,’ Ana assures and Edwin nods.

‘Did you do it, then?’ she asks, a moment later, ‘Did you put all of these artefacts back where you got them from?’

‘Yes. And…’ Perhaps speaking of what really brought him here would help. Perhaps Peggy ought to know about the box, the letter, her future… ‘well, at the last one-’

‘Stevie, Stevie, Stevie!’

Morgan almost trips over the threshold, dropping the papers in her hands as she flails to regain balance. She picks them up, one by one, panting hard after the run.

‘Pete, he’s here! I found him!’

‘Coming!’

Parker skids into the room with the same amount of grace, carrying an empty pitcher, two glasses and papers of his own. ‘Hey, Steve- you won’t believe what just happened. And before you say anything, the box told us to open it, so what were we gonna do, not open it? We just had to, it was destiny, and then- oh, you have a guest.’

The kid puts the pitcher and glasses on the table, extending one hand for Peggy to shake. ‘I’m Peter, Peter Parker. You’re the lady in the compass, right?’

Steve blushes at that – Carter smiles.

‘Peggy Carter. Pleasure to meet you- and you’re the children who experimented with time, I presume?’

‘Yeah- wait, what? Did- do they know? Did you tell them?’

‘Yeah,’ he says, ‘I just explained most of it.

‘Oh,’ Peter breathes, shaking off the shock. ‘Okay, well, good, I suppose. Although the Ancient One might not be happy if we screw up this timeline – I don’t know, but she’s kinda scary, you know? In her own way. We just met her.’

Now it’s the soldier’s turn to blanch. ‘What?’

‘Yeah, we were in Howard’s lab, ‘cause we needed a place for the letter to dry, and the Cloak of Levitation was there and then the Ancient One came along through that yellow sparkly thing-’ Parker circles the air with one hand- ‘and then she read the letter and it was actually a text from some kinda book she had, though she used the word _tome_ so it must’ve been, like, ancient too. Anyway, she said we created a new timeline, and that there was a way to save Tony. Kinda. And I think she kinda told me to go see you, but I’m not sure. I just thought you should know.’

‘Wow,’ Howard whistles, ‘that was a lot of words.’

Steve shifts in his seat, glancing at the lemon-scented papers in Morgan’s and Peter’s hands. ‘Okay. Maybe you should start at the beginning.’

* * *

_October, 2023_

Building things was always Tony’s forte. She dealt with people, mastered the art of multitasking to perfection whilst he would work on his Iron armours, one by one. Still, now that she can’t sleep, can’t tear her eyes from the suits Bruce and dr Pym are working on, she might as well lend a hand. And, she discovers, she’s not that bad at it.

Rhodey has to take care of everything Pepper used to do for Tony. He calls Morgan’s pre-school, tells them some half-lie about a family emergency. He calls Peter’s, too, though convincing the principal the teen hasn’t just run away to skip class is harder than anticipated with the recent suspension in mind.

Rhodey even gives May the hard news, and flies her out to dr Pym’s laboratory in San Francisco. Pepper can’t bear to talk to her.

She grabs a screwdriver, painstakingly small to adjust a minor screw on one of the chest panels. Doctor Strange didn’t much appreciate their decision, but he admitted that if the Ancient One hadn’t sent the kids back, they can’t be doing too much damage over there – and still, they have to be brought home, and as long as she’s as careful as them she’s got his blessing. He gave them the date and location the Ancient One had told him but wouldn’t interfere any further. She doesn’t mind. This is her fault to fix.

‘You need to eat,’ May says. She’s standing at the door, a Tupperware box in her hands. Pepper’s been so focused that she didn’t hear ms Parker enter.

‘Take five, yeah?’ Bruce encourages, ‘You could use some new energy.’

‘Fine.’ This was bound to happen sooner or later, anyway.

She accepts the food without meeting May’s eyes but the New Yorker doesn’t let on so easily. ‘How about we sit somewhere else? Somewhere more private, maybe.’

‘Yeah, okay. I can do that.’

They walk in silence, down the winding corridors past other labs, other people. There’s a narrow staircase that leads up to a rooftop terrace with a near-perfect view of the iconic, red bridge save for a few buildings in the way. There are no tables, no chairs – it’s an empty, gravelled space, far from prying ears.

‘Here,’ May beckons, sitting down at the edge of the roof, ‘Peter always did it like this. Though I don’t suppose he took the stairs.’

‘God,’ Pepper sighs as she, too, practically falls to her seat, ‘May, I know- I know I… I’ve owed you an apology for a while. I just- I couldn’t give it while the suits weren’t ready, I felt like I wouldn’t be able to go on afterwards. Maybe I just didn’t want to face you. God. You hate me, don’t you?’

‘Hey, you weren’t the one who sent them back, right? And you didn’t even supply the suit-bracelet-thing Peter had. He stole that.’ Ms Parker smiles, and it’s bitter-sweet, popping the lid off the Tupperware. ‘Have some fries while they’re still hot.’

‘Thanks.’

The former Potts-now-Stark munches down the fries, flour-like in texture and without a grain of salt. Her body doesn’t care very much about taste right now. It’s food, and she’s ever so hungry.

‘Peter’s always taking it up to himself to save people, it’s like the whole world rests on his shoulders. He saw an opportunity and took it – if it had been me with Ben, I think I would’ve done the same. And it blew up in his face, and Morgan’s, but that’s Parker luck for you. If anything, I feel like I should be the one apologising. Your daughter’s gone. We’re in the same boat.’

Pepper shakes her head, swallowing down the dry paste as best she can.

‘I don’t blame you – you sent Peter to me to get better, and that must’ve killed you with how he was doing. You trusted me, and I was supposed to look after him. Then they just- slipped, right through my fingers. I’m so sorry.’

‘I forgive you. I hope you can too.’

Pepper wipes her mouth, setting down the box between them again. ‘Did you make these?’

‘Yeah, last night for dinner. Just reheated them for you. I thought you could use ‘em.’ How May manages to stay calm in the face of everything is a wonder. One of the greater mysteries of the universe. She stares off into the orange sky, hair escaping its loose bun to whip at her cheeks and raise fists at god above who has taken their children away. Not that Pepper knows if she believes in such a deity with everything that’s happened, but it’s a nice thought of comfort now and then.

‘It’s dawn, isn’t it?’

‘Yeah. You didn’t sleep tonight, did you?’

‘Too much to do.’ She picks at the last chips of nail polish she’d had done just a few days before… before everything.

‘Hm. Not that I knew him very well or very long, but you sound like your husband.’

‘I do, don’t I,’ she says dryly and May hums again.

‘I couldn’t do it, you know. The superhero stuff Peter does, the missions, the stakes. I may be a nurse, but there’s something about this that requires more… I don’t even know what it is, but he’s got it. Heaven knows he didn’t get it from me, but he has it all right. So do you.’ Ms Parker turns away from the breathtaking horizon, pushing the escaped strands of hair back into their nest. ‘Thank you,’ she says sincerely, ‘for going out there. For getting our kids back.’

She doesn’t say _for trying to_ – in their minds it’s already a done deal. It’s going to work. Pepper isn’t coming back until she finds both Morgan and Peter.

‘It’s gonna be okay. For you it’ll just be five seconds after we’ve gone, and Hank thinks we’ll be ready in a few days. End of the week at the most.’

May nods, looking down at her wringing hands. ‘It’s just, ever since I heard about Steve not coming back… Even though he chose that, it still got me thinking – _worrying._ It’s going to be the longest five seconds of my entire life.’

‘Yeah.’ The varnish plops off the nail, whisked away by the wind soon after. ‘The longest of mine, too.’

* * *

_May, 1947_

‘Nebula told us a story once. She wasn’t very talkative, it was rare that she ever shared, but… she did, one time.’

‘Who’s Nebula again?’ Howard half-whispers. They’re all sitting in a perfect circle, Morgan next to Steve on the couch with Peter on the floor beside them. It feels a bit like huddling around a campfire with the Howling Commandos, sharing hushed stories of home, dreams of what they’ll do once the war is over.

‘Oh!’ Parker says, ‘I think I know this one. She’s the scary blue chick, right? I met her on Titan.’

‘Doesn’t really help my case, but okay.’

‘She’s a friend from far away,’ Steve confirms and the teen nods vigorously. _Alien._ ‘She used to travel far and wide with this large group of- well, misfits, to use her own words. Anyway, the, uh, mission they met on involved one of the artefacts we mentioned before.’

‘Infinity stones,’ Morgan happily supplies.

‘Yes, Morgan, infinity stones. A name none of you can ever mention beyond these walls.’ The soldier levels the Jarvis's and Howard with a stern look but only glances at Peggy. He already knows he can count on her to keep a secret. ‘This infinity stone’s… housing unit, it was broken, and one of the members of the group – Quill – grabbed it. Together with the rest of them they were able to harness the power and survive.’

‘And they held it with their bare hands, right?’ Peter asks, taking mental notes, ‘But if I was to do it, my suit could absorb them like, like Tony’s did. ‘Cause it’s nano-tech, right? So I’ve got an even higher chance of surviving.’

‘Theoretically, if _we_ were to do it,’ Steve reminds the overeager kid, ‘that’s how it would work. But if nano-tech is what it takes, I’d need one of the quantum realm suits, which would probably be fried in the process. Which means I’d be stuck there.’

‘This event, is it far from both now and the point in the future you come from?’ Edwin Jarvis asks. He’s starting to slowly warm up to the time travel thing as Ana does so, following her lead.

‘Relatively. I wouldn’t wanna be stuck there,’ Rogers answers and then frowns. ‘Or… Peter, what date did you come from?’ It’s never occurred for him to ask before.

‘27th September, 2023.’

‘Oh. That’s about a month after I...’ So Parker knows then. Knows if Steve will choose to stay here or return.

‘2023,’ Peggy echoes.

‘Damn,’ Howard grins, ‘you guys gotta have hover cars and world peace by now! I mean, by then, in the future. Wow, this is confusing.’

‘Hover cars?’ Peter sighs, ‘Gee, I wish.’

‘What? Not even in a hundred years?’

‘Focus, Howard,’ Peggy says half-heartedly, her thoughts seeming to go in a similar direction.

‘What about space travel?’

‘Oh, I’ve been to space!’ Parker’s eyes turn wide, ‘Shit, I shouldn’t have said that, should I? Will the Ancient One come back and expel us to our timeline now, or…?’

‘Shit,’ Morgan bounces her legs. The adults all reflexively flinch at the same time.

‘Oh shi- no, Mor, I’m sorry, don’t copy me on that. That’s a bad word – god, Pepper’s gonna kill me-’

‘Don’t worry, daddy said it before. And I know worse.’

The room goes silent again.

‘But...’ Peter continues, cheeks still burning, ‘anyways, it could work. It’s something to work on, at least, and if we could just build two more suits – one for Morgan and a spare for you – it should be okay.’

‘We’d still be changing our own pasts.’

‘Not if we do something – something to hide it, you know? Isn’t there some kind of illusion function in the stones? I mean, they can do anything, right?’

‘The reality stone,’ Steve nods, ‘We could use it to make sure everyone still saw Tony do the snap and die, even if it’s we who do it this time.’

‘And then we bring him back with us,’ Peter finishes, face lighting up. ‘Yeah. And we’ll make him a suit, too, so that’s three now-’

‘What about the fuel?’ Peggy asks, ‘For your- suits, was it? How much do you have?’

‘Oh. Right. I- I’ve got nothing.’

‘I used my last to get here,’ Rogers realises. He cards a hand through his hair – this is exactly why they didn’t dwell on saving Tony or Nat before. There’d always be something that came up, even when everything was looking like it was going to turn out okay. The disappointment always makes him nauseous.

‘Don’t look so gloomy – you’ve got me, right?’ Howard says, but the soldier shakes his head.

‘It’s a particle that doesn’t exist yet. Even if you could discover it decades before it’s supposed to be, that would alter the future too much. And like I said, I don’t have any left, unless...’ He frowns, starting to remember something.

Peggy, in the future, gave him the choice of staying or going back even though she knew he only had one set of Pym particles left. What was that she’d said?

_There’s an explanation in there, and a few supplies you’re going to need once you’ve chosen. It’s up to you, Steve. If you wish only to see me and return, I’m sure there’s something in_ _t_ _here to help you back._

The container had felt too heavy to just contain paper.

‘Peter, was there anything else in that second box?’

The teen shrugs, ‘Yeah, it was really weird – there was a third one, but we never opened it.’

Oh. Maybe everything will work out just fine, after all.

* * *

_October, 2023_

‘Going Quantum in five, four-’

Pepper’s helmet materialises around her head and she glances to Rhodey and sees his doing the same. They’re both wearing their armours underneath the quantum realm suits. Hope Pym has managed to construct a housing unit for their AIs and communication devices, so they’ll be able to talk to each other during the journey.

‘-three, two-’

Bruce readjusts his grip on the lever, ready to push it down. Beside him stands dr Pym, monitoring the machine’s readings, and Hope who’s just there to watch. May’s to the right, chewing on her bottom lip; she catches Pepper’s gaze and gives a reassuring but nervous smile. _Good luck._

‘-one.’

A force ten times stronger than gravity pulls her down into the floor, the surroundings changing, warping out of shape – no, _she_ is. Her body’s being compressed, made smaller, but it doesn’t hurt even if it scrambles her brain up thinking about it.

‘Can you read me?’ Rhodey asks, voice strained, through the comms.

‘Yeah, yeah I read you. Shit, Rhodes.’

‘I know.’ They zoom past colourful specks, landscapes, vast and untouched. _Wow._ ‘It’s a lot to take in.’

They keep shrinking, all he way until a light, electric blue takes over her field of vision.

‘All right, the course should be on your screen now. Don’t stray off it.’

Her Rescue armour displays a track, winding through the tunnels ahead – she ducks left as instructed, Rhodey following shortly behind. She’d find it exhilarating if she weren’t doing it to save her child. The colours are shifting, blurring past her at a speed like nothing she’s experienced before. The strange feeling of floating and being held down at the same time sends a thrill through her. She breathes heavily, trying not to lose herself in the sensation and fall off course.

It doesn’t last. Soon Rhodey instructs her to grow – and they zoom past the landscapes again, but in reverse this time, larger and larger until they’re their regular sizes once more.

The first thing Pepper notices is the cold. When the Quantum suit retreats, she feels it, even through her armour. It takes a few seconds for the systems to switch from satellite control to manual and the heater kicks in, and in those seconds, she’s freezing.

They’re in a courtyard, a large factory of some sorts towering overhead. Snow is falling down in sharp, icy patches, a rough wind hurling them at anything it can reach.

‘Weren’t we supposed to land in the summer?’ Pepper asks. She’s got chills now but they’re not a cause of the weather.

‘Yeah. We were.’ Rhodey lowers his head, the faceplate of his mask opening up. He blinks against the wind, tapping the side of his mobius strip rapidly. ‘Something’s wrong. We’re in the wrong time.’

She squeezes her eyes shut. _Fuck_ _._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i know the time-travel science in this chapter and the last one is a bit... weird. to be honest i find marvel's science kinda weird and non-sensical too so maybe that's okay :)
> 
> also, cliffhanger! whoopsie :D


	12. Chapter 12

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> sorry for the late update! I got caught up in all the new marvel announcements :3 I'm so excited for everything!!!

_May, 1947_

‘Vibranium?’

‘God, I wish. No – but hey, maybe in the future. Now that Wakanda’s opened its boarders, they might think about contributing to the cell phone business.’

‘If there even is more vibranium in Wakanda-’ Howard scratches his chin- ‘I don’t think they’re gonna prioritise your… what was it again?’

‘Cell – mobile phone, actually.’ Peter fiddles with the back piece of his now dismembered device. He’d had to hide the blatant Stark Industries logo before Howard could see it.

‘Yeah. I mean, I get the gist of it, but there’s gotta be more useful stuff out there. Stuff for everyday use, maybe, if they’re going with the helpful route – or enhanced weapons.’

‘Yeah,’ the teen laughs, ‘it’s not like I use this all the time.’

‘Exactly,’ Stark continues, oblivious to the sarcasm. He sorts through the parts, stopping at a small wire. ‘What’s this again?’

‘Badassium. Well, it’s not the legal name, yet, but uh… we’re gonna need some of it, so – Mor, can you cross badassium off?’

‘You said a bad word!’ Morgan points out, but crosses the section off the list anyway.

‘Sorry Mor, it was a quote.’

‘I think that’s everything we’ve got.’ Howard leans back, cracking his back loudly. ‘God, I’m getting old. I’ll check my private stash again, but I’m pretty sure whatever’s left we’re gonna have to send for.’

‘There’s one, two, three, four, five...’ The girl’s forehead creases as she counts through the notes. It takes her awhile, and Peter’s probably gonna have to check if she crossed the right words or not when she’s done, but it felt wrong to exclude her. Besides, it’s not like they’re in a rush. Tony’s dying in eighty years or so.

‘Fourteen!’ she announces brightly.

‘Good counting, Mor! Fourteen’s not bad, right? You can get all these things?’

Howard takes the list of the parts they’re missing to fix the quantum suit, humming as he reads. ‘Yeah, I can easily send for everything – except the vibranium. And since Cap didn’t bring his shield we have no way of getting some. Unless you want to go beg Wakanda for the last of their scraps.’

That’s probably not a good idea. Wakanda at this time is dedicated to remaining hidden and would probably not take kindly to strangers from the west. Especially not ones that know about their secret gold mine – well, vibranium mine.

‘No, we gotta get it from somewhere else.’

‘You sure the last of yours went to my shield?’ Steve asks. He’s been sent to ensure they make it to dinner. Howard begged for ten more minutes to finish the list when the soldier arrived, but Peter reckons it’s been more like half an hour since.

‘Yeah. I found a small amount later through a shady buyer, but that went into an experimental weapon that’s gone.’

‘What do you mean _gone?_ ’

‘Well, someone raided my stash last year and the bounty’s been traversing the black market ever since. I had to get Peggy to clear my name because people started to think _I_ was selling the weapons. She got some of it back, too, but never the one with the vibranium.’

Steve shifts in his chair next to Morgan’s, ‘And there’s no paper trail to follow that could lead us to it?’

‘Probably not, but it’s worth a check,’ Howard says, finally putting down his magnifying glasses. He’d offered Parker some, but with the enhanced sight he hadn’t needed any to see the small components. Stark had shrugged it off as another sign that he’s getting old. ‘Okay. I guess we ought to get some of that dinner now, huh?’

‘Finally,’ Morgan says, hopping down from her seat. She lays the paper neatly at the centre of the chair, a careful habit she’s probably picked up from her mother. Tony’s more of a leave-it-anywhere-when-you’re-done-with-it kinda guy. That’s why FRIDAY always keeps track of his stuff for him, from Iron Man suit to banana peel.

‘You hungry, Mor?’ Peter smiles softly. She sighs, nodding exaggeratedly and it’s so endearing his heart might burst.

‘Yeah. ‘m tired.’

‘You wanna be carried?’

‘Mm hm.’

He hoists her high on his hip in the manner he’s just mastered, like a real god-brother would. She rests her head against his shoulder and yawns.

‘Walk on the ceiling again, Pete.’

Steve sends a questioning look over and Parker just shrugs, pulling a face. Yeah, he probably should’ve waited with the identity reveal until they’d gotten home to a stabler environment. She seems to have taken it quite well, though, so that’s something.

‘Maybe later,’ he says. Later, when Howard’s not here. Not that they’re keeping that many things from him any more, but still – Peter’s got a secret identity for a reason, and that’s to protect his loved ones. Maybe Stark would freak and they’d have to sleep on the streets from here on.

_Why do you always have to think the worst? He literally created Captain America – if anything, he’d be fascinated!_ _Come on, get yourself together. It’s gonna be fine._

And it is. Ever since Steve opened the last box to find not one, not two but _eight_ vials of Pym particles, the future’s been looking bright. They have a plan and half a backup for it. It’s going to be okay.

Unless they can’t find the vibranium. In which case he can neither save Tony nor go home.

 _Happy thoughts,_ he disciplines himself, hugging Morgan closer. _It’s not over until it’s over._

* * *

‘I’ll ask chief Sousa to look into the stolen tech and vibranium,’ Peggy had said that dinner, and now it’s morning and Daniel’s calling her back with his findings. Or, well, he calls to ask her come meet him face to face. Then they’ll talk.

She doesn’t mind – she feels like she has unfinished business at the SSR’s west coast office either way. So she packs herself into the forest green car Jarvis pulls up in at ten thirty am, bracing herself for bad news.

Perhaps it wouldn’t be that bad. Some selfish part of her wants the vibranium to stay hidden – she doesn’t wish for the children to be trapped here, of course, but Steve… It’s terribly selfish of her, uncharacteristically so, but it’s the truth.

She understands, though. He said he’d spent eleven years in the future and that’s twice as long as she got to know him before his apparent demise. And yes, it’s awfully unfair to get your love back only to have to lose him again, but it is what it is.

‘You’re quiet,’ Edwin remarks.

‘So are you.’

‘Yes, but I’m a butler. More so, I’m mr Stark’s butler, so I’ve had to master the art of staying silent for long stretches of time. You see, he likes to explain his ideas to me. God knows I don’t understand them, but it seems to help him find improvements.’

‘Mm.’ She cracks the window further open, relishing the wind that caresses her cheek.

‘I don’t suppose this silence is a cause of mr Rogers’?’

‘It’s a lot to think about,’ she admits. Like how they’d slow danced to Billie Holiday’s longing voice coming from the radio last evening. Like how he’d kissed her goodnight before they parted ways to sleep.

‘Yes, I suppose it is.’ Jarvis’ voice is almost smug, almost teasing.

‘Do you have something to say, mr Jarvis?’

‘Nothing you wouldn’t already know, ms Carter.’ He rounds a corner, taking them off the motorway and into the heart of Los Angeles. ‘You love him.’

‘Why do you say that as if it’s primary school gossip?’

‘You’re right, of course, it’s always been apparent. Especially now when most of the time, mr Rogers seems to be wearing your lipstick.’

Peggy clears her throat, looking the other way lest he notice her blushing. ‘I don’t see what that has to do with anything.’

‘I’m just rather curious is all. Does this mean your fling with chief Sousa is over?’

‘Mr Jarvis – there was never such a thing as a _fling_ between him and me! We worked together, that’s all. He’s a respectable agent turned chief. I admire his work, not his… whatever it is you’re implying.’

‘Of course you do,’ Jarvis nods gravely without an ounce of conviction.

‘Mr _Jarvis._ ’

‘Ms Carter.’

She puts her sunglasses on even though there’s only going to be a few steps between the car and the approaching entrance of Auerbach’s theatrical agency. The vibrant red clashes somewhat with the purple dress she’s donned but one really can’t be picky when there’s so much sun.

‘All I’m saying,’ Edwin continues as he pulls over to the curb, ‘is that this might be your best opportunity to wrap things up with the chief.’

She sighs, checking her lipstick in the rear-view mirror. ‘Just answer me this, would you? Are you sure Steve is going to stay?’

‘I’m sure he would if you just asked.’

‘Mm,’ she hums sourly. Easier said than done. ‘Thank you for driving me, mr Jarvis, I’m sure I won’t be long. I could always take a taxi back, though.’

‘Taxi,’ Jarvis grumbles, ‘never in a million years. A sophisticated lady such as yourself must never find your way into one of those horrid things. I’ll be waiting for you.’

‘Thank you, mr Jarvis. Make sure you don’t catch a heatstroke.’

‘It’s my pleasure, really,’ he smiles. ‘Good luck.’

* * *

Sousa straightens in his chair the second Peggy knocks on the half-open door. She looks surprisingly out of her element – in the time he’s known her, Carter has always been two steps ahead on all fronts. Perhaps time-travelling super-soldiers is a stride too far even for her.

‘Come on in. Uh, would you mind closing that after you?’

She raises an eyebrow, but does as he says. The bustling noise from outside is muffled at once. ‘Rose told me you’ve ordered the whole staff to silence.’

‘I got the impression that the Captain wasn’t ready for the world to know about him yet.’

She nods, sitting down across from him, no doubt noticing his most recent notes.

‘I got a lead,’ Daniel confirms as her eyes snap to his, ‘Reports of a black market deal on one of Stark’s most dangerous weapons. Chief Thompson has already begun orchestrating an operation to extract it. He thinks the buyers might be planning something big.’

‘Like last year’s V.E. day,’ Peggy says seriously. They both know what could be at stake. ‘So the weapon’s in New York?’

‘Yeah, a warehouse in Jersey.’

‘And once _chief Thompson,_ ’ she utters the name like a curse, ‘has gotten his hands on it, what happens then? Does he plan to give it back to Howard or hand it over to some higher ups in the government?’

‘We both know how Jack is. Chances are, we’re never gonna see Stark’s invention again – unless it’s to be used by the military. Even then, I’m thinking they’ll cover their tracks.’

‘So we need to get to it first.’

They watch each other, waiting for any sign of the other wanting out.

‘It’s really that important?’ Sousa asks at last, breaking the silence.

‘It is.’

‘Then I’m in.’

‘Daniel,’ she starts to protest, though there’s no real heat behind it, ‘you’re chief here. You can’t just leave.’

‘If Peggy Carter needs my help, I can. Besides, I… I’ve got a feeling you’re going to be busy in the near-future. And though we’re understaffed here, I don’t think I’ll be able to convince you to join us. I hear you’ve been very busy with the Dottie Underwood case – Jack says you’ve almost cracked it. Add Captain Rogers to the mix, and… I just figure you’re not gonna stay.’

He looks away for a second to push down the lump lodged in his throat. Hadn’t he been the one to transfer to the west coast to get away from her? A clean break, to rid of his unreciprocated emotions. He has a girlfriend now, dammit, one he’d be happy to spend the rest of his life with. And still, something lingers.

Hope. It’s hope that’s still there, clinging onto a future that could never be.

‘This isn’t goodbye,’ Peggy speaks up. ‘We’ve both been busy for the last year, and even if we won’t see each other for another long while, I’ll still be here. Good friends are like stars – you don’t always see them, but you know they’re always there.’

‘You’re right’ he smiles bittersweetly, ‘All I’m saying is… life might lead us down opposite paths. I’d like to take the opportunity of one last mission before that happens.’

‘Okay.’ She lays one hand on top of his desk, near the notes. Their fingers grace against each other. Then, she pulls away. ‘We’ll need a plan, of course.’

Sousa laughs, because it almost sounds like a question. ‘I’ve learned by now to leave that up to you. Isn’t that how the famous saying goes? _Do as Peggy says._ ’

When Carter’s lips tug up into a smile, his heart can’t help but do a flip. Yeah, one last mission, one last time for them to part on good terms – that will be good for him. Perhaps afterwards, he’ll be able to move on.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i just had to get all of these characters together for a mission! although im not sure if Thompson is going to like them stealing his thunder... we'll see how he reacts, and how the mission goes! ;)


	13. Chapter 13

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> it's time to put steve, peggy and sousa together and watch what happens :3

‘Do I have to wear these? It’s so warm.’

Morgan pulls at the thick, white socks tucked into block heels. It seems ridiculous to put a child in such shoes, but they can’t be more than an inch high – besides, Howard had told Jarvis to buy _appropriate_ clothes. Her and Peter are to look the part of children to some business colleague of Stark’s to not raise suspicions in the hanger. Though it might be Howard’s private one, used only for the man’s planes, L.A. is ripe with gossip. One can never be too careful.

The socks are paired with a navy dress that sports a matching ivory collar, making her look absolutely adorable. If Steve had kept his phone, he’d snapped a picture of it. Bringing out the Jarvis’s camera seems to be over-kill though, so he takes a mental snapshot of the sight.

‘I’m afraid so. It’s going to be colder in the plane, and even more so in New York, so don’t worry about it too much. Okay?’

‘Okay,’ she nods, running a hand along one of her pigtails.

‘A tie? Really? Do I have to?’ Peter comes out in his off the rack suit that still manages to look tailored. Perhaps Ana lent a hand again. The casually dotted tie breaks off the blue nicely, at the same time as managing to make the boy absolutely miserable. He tugs at the knot like a puppy on its leash.

‘I think it fits you,’ Steve remarks, earning him an eye-roll.

‘I look like I’m about to get married.’

‘I’ll marry you,’ Morgan says happily.

‘Aw, thanks Mor. Maybe later, okay?’

Peggy steps into the room, dressed in the red dress she arrived in, a matching hat with a birdcage veil and sunglasses as disguise. He grabs his own hat and shades. Side by side, they’ll look the part of a married couple; the thought sends a thrill through him.

‘Ready, are we?’

‘Of course milady.’

The soldier grabs her arm and they walk through the doorway like so, Morgan and Peter trailing shortly behind.

‘Here comes the family,’ Howard grins outside, visibly satisfied with his butler’s work. He stands by two cars, the beige one Peggy arrived in and a red convertible, both with their tops down. ‘I figured you guys can go in one car and Jarvis’ll drive me in this,’ he slaps the side of the red vehicle. ‘Makes the whole family thing much more believable.’

Edwin stands to the side, Ana dusting off some imagined specks of dust from his flawless jacket. They’re saying their private goodbyes as Ana will be staying to manage the estate – the estate and Bernard the flamingo, that it.

‘Daniel will meet us at the hangar,’ Peggy informs them, then glances to Steve. ‘I don’t suppose you’ve gotten any better at driving?’

‘I think we’ll all be much safer in your hands.’

‘Well then, mr Johnston.’ Carter smiles and his heart does a flip. ‘Why don’t you get the children settled, and then we’ll be off?’

* * *

Flying across the country takes longer than when Happy flew Peter to Germany for his first real fight. The private jet isn’t that different, though, except for the lack of wifi and showering amenities. The air is staler too. Not just literally, but figuratively as miss Peggy takes turns sitting with Steve and keeping chief Sousa company.

Oh yeah. Peter knows a love triangle when he sees one. When they arrived at the hangar, Sousa and Cap could barely look each other in the eye. Something’s changed since last they met – miss Peggy’s here now. It’s awkward, so he sits by Morgan and tries not to let her grow bored. They’ve brought papers and colourful pencils and the first ten hours go by incredibly smoothly.

‘This is you,’ she points to a stick figure on a blue meadow. ‘And that’s me, and that’s mommy. I don’t know how to draw daddy though. I haven’t decided yet.’

‘That’s lovely. You’re a great artist, Mor. And I’m- I’m sure however you decide to draw your dad he’d be happy, okay?’

She blinks up at him. ‘Mommy said he’s underground. In a casket.’

‘Oh. Yeah, uh, he probably is right now. In the future, I mean.’

‘I don’t wanna draw him in a casket though. I want him next to me and mommy.’

Parker swallows thickly, putting on a fake smile, ‘You do that, Mor. It’s your drawing, you can do whatever you want.’

‘Are you sad again, Petey?’

‘Maybe. Or maybe I’m just tired.’ He leans back in his seat, popping his ears as they descend for yet another re-fuel. ‘It’s getting pretty late, you know. Maybe you can finish that and then we’ll go to bed, yeah?’

‘Without brushing our teeth?’ she gasps.

‘Yeah,’ Peter laughs quietly, genuinely. ‘Just don’t tell your mom and it’ll be fine.’

* * *

‘New York. God, I’ve missed this.’

Howard does a spin in the lobby of a semi-tall building with the interior of a late 19th century manor. Turns out he’s got two entire floors to himself, private elevator and all. There are five bedrooms, so Stark takes the master, Jarvis one of the smaller ones while Peter assures them that it’s fine to share a king-size with Morgan.

‘Petey,’ she whispers, over-exhausted but clinging onto the last sugar of a doughnut they probably shouldn’t have given her. She’d begged and begged and begged once dinner was over and the plane touched down, until Howard had given in if only to silence her.

‘Yeah?’

‘We can do a pillow fight. And walk on the ceiling.’

Steve sends over a disapproving look, setting down his duffel bag on the couch in the lavish living room.

‘Maybe tomorrow, Mor. Time for bed, yeah?’

‘Again?’ She lets out a whine that tells Peter he’s got his work cut out for him. It’s a marvel she’s lasted this long without a tantrum with all that’s happened, and still, he has no idea how to handle the potential situation. _God, I’d rather fight a giant lizard without my suit_ _and web-shooters_ _._ _Again._

At the other end of the room, Steve and Sousa’s voices are rising, providing ample distraction.

‘Captain, I insist-’

‘No, you’re not hearing me, see, I _want_ to take the couch-’

‘Gentlemen!’ Howard bellows, ‘Please, there’s an obvious solution to this problem. One of you share bed with Peggy and we’ll be all set.’

Peter almost groans. _Can_ _that man be_ _any more tasteless?_ If he weren’t already so tired, he’d find Cap’s burning ears hilarious. Okay, to be honest, he still does. Even if he can’t muster a laugh.

‘That won’t be necessary,’ Peggy speaks up with a blush of her own. ‘I just called my flatmate, I’ll be spending the night at our place. I owe her an explanation as to why I flew across the country without a moment’s notice anyhow. Even if it isn’t a truthful one.’

‘All right,’ Howard gives, ‘if you wanna do this the boring way…’

She sends him a look that could definitely kill. ‘I’ll meet up with you outside the SSR’s office at eight tomorrow. Steve, I’m afraid you can’t follow us inside.’

The teen files that information away for later – they haven’t talked about it, but he’s definitely going to be a part of this mission. And it’s not like Cap’s gonna bench him, not when he let Parker fight in the greatest battle ever to take place.

‘It’s okay, I know you’ve got it covered. I’ll wait in the car.’

Peggy plants a kiss on Steve’s cheek before hugging the chief goodbye. Sousa just looks away. Jikes.

Howard grins.

‘I suppose we’ll see each other tomorrow, then. Goodnight lovey doves.’

Carter gives him a friendly slap on her way out the door. ‘Night, Howard.’

‘We should probably head to bed too,’ Peter speaks up, hoping Morgan won’t put up too much of a fight. Maybe seeing the adults doing the same will convince her it’s a good idea.

‘Mm,’ she mumbles. He takes his chances and counts it as a win.

Parker carries her through the corridors as per Jarvis’ instruction, setting their suitcase down in one of the two guest rooms overlooking a park. It can’t be Central Park, no, but it’s large and green enough to serve just as spectacular a view. There’s a sizeable ledge beneath one of the huge windows, large enough to enjoy a snack on in front of its beauty. Maybe he should treat himself to a sandwich or a banana. It’s been a long day.

Morgan’s wiggling in his grip, but protests – loudly – when he tries to set her down.

‘Come on, Mor,’ he begs, ‘let me get your new toothbrush out of the suitcase-’

‘No, Pete, you said we could sleep without brushing!’

‘That was on the plane. We’ve got a big bathroom now, it’s great – we’ll go pee, brush our teeth, and then we’ll hop into this bed, okay? Look, it’s really soft!’

He pats the comforter with one hand, trying with an encouraging smile to win her over. She shakes her head.

‘I don’t wanna.’

‘Please, Mor. If not for me, do it for your dad-’

Peter freezes. Morgan’s eyes widen and her bottom lip trembles dangerously. _Shit shit shit!_ _Why? Why would_ _I_ _say that?!_

‘I- I mean, for your mom-’ _as if that’s any better,_ ‘I mean, be a good girl and-’

‘But daddy’s not here.’

‘Hey,’ Peter rambles, because his mind’s gone into panic mode now and he’s got no idea what to do, ‘maybe tomorrow Jarvis can go buy you some ice cream, yeah? Or a burger – you liked the burger, right? The one the lady in L.A. gave you, yeah? And maybe- maybe you can go to a toy store, I bet there’s some cool stuff here that we don’t have at home- Howard’s really rich, I’m sure he wouldn’t mind buying you something-’

She stops her trembling for one second, confused, ‘Why would Jarvis take me and not you?’

‘I- I mean yeah, after the mission we can both go out and get ice cream and stuff maybe, and we-’

‘Pete? Are… are you going away?’

_Shit shit shit shit shit shit shit-_

There’s really no stopping Morgan from crying after that. She lets one halting sob go, then another, and when the third rolls around her tears are running a marathon against the river of snot down her nose.

‘Shh, Mor, it’s okay-’

‘ _No,_ you _promised_ Pete! You promised you wouldn’t go. Not again.’ Her sniffles turn to hiccuping sobs and Peter sits down on the floor with a distraught kid wiggling in his arms, struggling to get away from him at the same time as burrowing closer.

‘It’s not like before, Mor, I promise! I’m not running away, we’re just gonna go get something that’ll help us save your dad, and then be back. I promise, okay? It’s gonna help save him!’

‘Don’t,’ she persists, balling up his dress-shirt in her fists, ‘No, don’t go!’

_God, what do I do? What the hell do I do?!_

‘Y-you- you said- said you wouldn’t leave!’

‘It’s okay, Mor! We’ve found something that can help us get dad back, and it’s really important that we find it, and- and I’m very good at finding things, see? That’s all, I swear! It’s not even gonna take that long, I promise!’

‘I can find things,’ she says with childish optimism, ‘I’ll come with you. I can help!’

‘I- I know, Mor.’ He closes his eyes, kissing the top of her head, ‘And I’m sorry, but you can’t this time. It could be dangerous for you-’

‘But you can’t- you can’t- can’t-’

‘Shh, Mor,’ Peter rocks frantically back and forth, ‘you gotta breathe, okay?’

‘You can’t- g-go if- if it’s dangerous-’

Finally some fraternal instinct kicks in, and along with the rocking, he begins to hush her. Soft _shh_ ’s that he hopes are reassuring, not just desperate. She really has to calm down before she passes out from too much oxygen. The panting slows into deeper breaths and heartbreakingly despairing, but silent, crying.

‘Mor, you know- you know I’m weird, don’t you?’ he tries.

The girl peeks through her hair and up at him, a mess of snot and tears. Then she nestles into Peter’s shoulder.

‘’Cause you walk on the ceiling?’ she mumbles finally, barely audible.

‘Yeah – yeah, exactly. Not many people can do that. In fact, I haven’t really met anyone else who can. I’m sure I could make you some sticky shoes, though. Wouldn’t that be fun?’ He shakes his head; this isn’t the time for distractions and possibly empty promises. ‘I can do other things as well – things that protects me against bad guys. That’s what you’re worried about, right?’

‘I want Petey to- to come back. Not like daddy.’ Morgan’s voice cracks at the last syllable and she cries again, long and hard. Peter holds her closer.

‘Oh Mor, I promise you, I will come back.’

‘Daddy said that too, but he never does!’

 _Shit._ ‘I-I know, but-’

It’s been a long day. Countless of hours in an old aeroplane, which engines were loud enough to start chafing on his eardrum during the first half hour, never-mind the rest of the trip. And he can’t stand her being sad, and all the things she’s saying – ‘cause Tony really isn’t back, not yet, and if they fail this mission- if there’s no vibranium for the quantum suits-

The teen closes his eyes as they start to well up, the water spilling over. He’s never felt so useless, so powerless in his entire life. Maybe once, when he watched Uncle Ben bleed out in that god-damn alleyway. Maybe again, when Tony’s eyes were glazing over and he couldn’t seem to hear anymore, and Pepper was pulling him away ‘cause it was too late, Peter was too late _again_ -

‘I’m sorry, Mor. I’m so sorry that he- that he _died._ I’m sorry. We’re gonna do the best to bring him back. I _promise._ ’

‘B-but what- what if- if it doesn’t _work-_ ’

‘I know, Mor, but- we’ve got a great plan,’ he hiccups, sounding far from convinced, ‘and, and it’s gonna work, it’s gotta. It just has to, okay? And- and it’s not- you can’t think the worst about it, ‘cause it might turn out okay. So, just… shh, it’s gonna be okay, it has to. It has to, ‘cause there’s no other way.’

That old, broken hurt claws at his chest again and he tries to pull himself together for Morgan’s sake. If he’s being honest, it’s the same coping mechanism kicking in like before, the numbness, like in that animated movie he’s gotta show Morgan sometime – conceal, don’t feel, don’t let it show. It’s the same numbness that made him break Flash’s nose.

His breathing slows, bit by bit, and so does hers. The girl’s finally too tired to continue sobbing, even if the sniffles persist. Her eyes blink sluggishly, drifting closed.

‘Okay,’ she whispers.

‘Okay,’ the teen echoes, clinging onto those words. ‘It’s gonna be okay.’

‘Petey,’ Morgan whispers, ‘I wanna watch the stars.’

‘Okay. Hang on...’

Peter rises to his feet slowly, keeping his eyes closed as if to shut out the world – then he walks over to their window, sitting down on the ledge underneath. New York lacks the insistent light pollution of the future. The night sky peeks through clouds above, a full moon far outshining any constellation.

Morgan leans her cheek against the window. ‘Mommy said she lost daddy once. She didn’t know where he was, if he’d come back. She watched the stars. And then the stars took him home.’

His jaw goes slack. ‘Is that what you’ve been doing all this time, Mor? Every night when you wanted to look outside?’

‘Mm hm. Hasn’t worked yet though. Maybe tonight…’ She waits, a glimmer of hope in her eyes. He can’t bear to watch her cry again when disappointment rolls around, but he’s too tired to move. So he watches with her.

They sit in silence for several minutes, watching and waiting. Then she pulls away from the glass, crashing into his arms.

‘ Maybe tomorrow,’  he tries.

‘ Yeah. Mommy waited a long time too.  And I waited with her, ‘cause I was in her tumm y. ’

‘Tell you what,’ he  yawns , limbs feeling like lead, ‘we’ll skip brushing our teeth just this once, all right?  It’s getting too late  and we don’t want to miss the sandman.’

‘What’s a sandman?’

‘Oh, you haven’t heard of him?’ She shakes her head, wiping off snot on the back of her hand. Peter stands despite the protests of his body to get her brand new nightgown from their suitcase. ‘Well, my Aunt May used to tell me all about him. He’s the guy who gives us good dreams, and when you wake up,  you’ll find grains of sand in your eyes if he’s visited.’

Her eyes widen comically. ‘I get those all the time!’

‘ Wow, y ou’re lucky –  t hat means he drops by every night. Come on, Mor,’ he manages to smile, despite the numbness; and despite the few days it usually takes for him to recover from it, she sends a warmth to his heart that’s beginning to thaw it.  This is why he came to Pepper’s in the first place. There’s nothing he wouldn’t do for her. ‘Get to bed and I’ll tell you all about him.’

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i really like writing peter being a good big brother to morgan even though he's not always sure what he's doing. and poor morgan is waiting for her dad every night :'( but at least they can find comfort in each other <3
> 
> next time - the team will start their search for vibranium and encounter some surprises... and we add another (unhelpful) character into the mix! See you Thursday


	14. Chapter 14

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> it's mission time! here's an extra long chapter for you guys:)

‘Well well well.’ Jack Thompson has his feet up on a rather sizeable desk, twirling a pen between his fingers. It’s eight-fifteen and he’s just enjoyed a bagel from the new place across the street, so he’ll give her the benefit of the doubt for a few more moments. ‘Look who decided to show up.’

Agent Carter is annoyed, but that’s usually a given with her. ‘Chief Sousa asked me to assist him in a high priority case. I didn’t just decide to skip out on work and fly across the country on some vacation.’

‘Oh, I’m sure it was very important. What was the case, huh, picnic in the park? River-boat tour at dusk?’

‘I’m not here to discuss it, but rather one of _your_ cases. The Jersey warehouse raid.’

Jack snorts. ‘What, you want in now? You know, it’s bad enough that you abandoned the Underwood case a day before we were to capture her, but now you want in on the next big thing like nothing happened?’

Peggy pauses, for the first time looking like she’s actually thinking about what to say next. How thoughtful of her to use that pretty head of hers, for once.

‘You did arrest Underwood, right?’

‘Yes. Just sent her off to the feds.’

‘And did you interrogate her?’

‘I thought you weren’t here to talk about Underwood,’ Thompson smiles and Carter sighs.

‘Fine. Have it your way – I’ll be quick, so listen closely. I’ll be taking over the Jersey raid. We leave in thirty minutes.’

Jack laughs. Peggy Carter is by far one of the most stubborn, brash women he’s ever met – including his mother – but this is beyond even her usual antics.

‘You can’t be serious, Carter.’

‘If you won’t take it from me, take it from him,’ she nods her head to the doorway. Daniel Sousa, crutch and all, is leaning against it. Casually, like he’s not supposed to be running the west coast office at this very moment. It’s a sight entirely out of place.

‘I’ll be damned. And I here I thought I’d seen the last of you, Sousa.’

‘We’ll be taking over the Jersey raid.’

‘So she’s a ventriloquise now, is she? And you’re her puppet, repeating the words.’ Jack shakes his head bitterly. ‘There’s nothing I can do about that, I’m afraid. Despite what you might think, you can’t just walk in and expect the world to bend its knee before you.’

He’d thought about trying more. Being nice, benefit of the doubt and all that jazz and see if the three of them could actually get along, but it’s hard when they’re constantly being so unreasonable. It’s like he’s the only one putting the effort in.

‘So it’s a no, then?’ Peggy asks, voice clipped.

‘Hard pass, but yeah.’ He swallows the last of the creamy bagel’s taste. Jack’s being too lenient, too soft. ‘Tell you what, why don’t you take your boyfriend and go back to sunny L.A.? That way we’ll all be happier.’

‘So now you’re firing me,’ Carter states, as if it isn’t a big deal but a minor annoyance. Speaks enough about her work ethics.

‘Think of it as an extended leave,’ Thompson says, placing his feet on the ground again. All ofhis playfulness is gone. ‘You walked out on a case I’ve let you lead for almost a year now, just as we were gonna get our hands dirty. But maybe fieldwork isn’t your area.’

‘You do remember when I saved your life back in Ukraine?’

‘Yes, I do.’ Jack’s patience is dwindling, so he stands up, eye to eye with Carter. Ukraine is also where he told her his secret, and the underlying threat is apparent. It won’t be accepted – _he’_ s chief, dammit, not her. ‘And for that I owe you my life, but what I don’t owe you, is a job.’

Sousa, ever the one to defend her, jumps forward with an insult on his lips but Peggy pushes him back.

‘Fine,’ she says. Her eyes glimmer strangely. ‘Come on, Daniel.’

‘What? You can’t just-’

‘Come. We can’t convince him otherwise, so we might as well go.’ She turns around, grabbing the chief’s arm. ‘Come on.’

Like the puppy he is, Sousa glares at Thompson but ultimately lets himself be lead away. ‘This isn’t over,’ he shouts before the door slams shut.

‘Sure it isn’t,’ Jack says, mostly to himself, and chuckles. Carter is a good agent, but she needs to be taught discipline.In a few days she’ll come crawling back and he’ll forgive her. Let her off with a warning, perhaps, or more coffee duty. Though he doesn’t like to say it out loud, she’s an excellent asset, if a bit rebellious. They need her to a certain degree.

There’s a commotion outside – Jack parts the blinds, watching his agents get out of their seats, staring in various states of shock at something just out of sight. He opens the door to his office.

‘Hey, what’s going o-’

His jaw drops like everyone else’s. Because not only is agent Carter and chief Sousa back, they’re flanked by Howard Stark and Captain America. _The_ Captain America. There’s no denying it – Thompson considers himself a true patriot and he’s watched the wartime documentaries more than once. He knows what mr Rogers, national treasure, looks like and it’s not something one can fake.

Behind them trail Jarvis, Howard’s butler who Jack became quite acquainted with last year, and two children. As if the sight wasn’t confusing enough already.

‘Morning, gentlemen,’ the Captain says, and if it wasn’t obvious it’s really him before it is now. The way he carries himself, with confidence and pride, is making every man in the office go silent with admiration. ‘Peggy says there’s been some kind of misunderstanding. I hope I can clear things up.’

For once in his life, Jack Thompson is at a total loss of words.

* * *

If Peter’s ever gonna reveal his true identity behind the mask, this is how he’s gonna do it. Epic entrance. Stunned crowd. A sexist arsehole that’s proven wrong. Yeah, it’s awesome all right – especially now that chief Thompson is fumbling with some feeble excuse to keep miss Peggy from running the heist. It doesn’t seem to be going his way though, what with Captain America shutting down every argument before it can be presented.

‘We need the best of your people,’ Steve says, standing tall. Peter knows it’s an image, just like the corny school PSAs, but in this case it’s actually working. ‘Right, Peggy?’

‘Two teams of five to storm the building here,’ she points at an entrance, marked out on a large map spanning the entire conference table. They’re in a separate room, and though the glass walls keep out unwanted noise they don’t really do anything about the stares. ‘One will be lead by chief Sousa and the other by chief Thompson. Captain, you’ll takea third in through the back once they’re distracted.’

‘Why go through all the secrecy?’ Thompson asks, ‘Two teams of five could easily take down the building.’

‘Unless someone gets to the weapon and fires it first. Howard, please remind us about the potentialperils that scenario poses.’

Stark glances to Morgan, sucking at a lollipop Jarvis has offered to soothe her anxiety over the mission. ‘Well, without causing mass panic, I can say it’s easily classified as my most dangerous one.’

‘Jesus,’ Jack says. ‘Why do you keep making these kinds of things?’

‘In my defence, it was supposed to be an automated coffee grinder. Or, well, it started out like one…’

‘If you say so. All right, I fold. Carter, do your thing.’

Peggy stands a bit taller and Cap leans back. ‘As I was saying, Steve will be taking his team through the back and secure the weapon. If possible, they’ll split up – one taking the weapon to a safe location, away from civilians, the others searching for any otherweapons hidden in the warehouse. We relocate here-’ she points to another location on the map, about a block away from the building- ‘at Daisy’s Diner’s parking lot. Any questions?’

‘Yes, actually, I have one.’ Jarvis raises one arm like they’re back in school. Come to think of it, Peggy acts a bit like ms Warren, Peter’s physics teacher. The prospect makes him grin. Ms Warren’s usually the one to shut down Flash’s snarky comments – her class is always the most entertaining, even if Parker already knows most ofwhat’s being taught.

‘Yes, mr Jarvis?’

‘Am I to be a part of mr Rogers’ team or one of the chiefs’ distractions?’

‘Actually,’ Peggy glances to Steve, ‘we thought you might stay behind to watch Morgan.’

‘What? Won’t her brother do that?’

‘Peter’s with me,’ Cap says and both the chiefs frown.

‘How old are you, son?’ Thompson asks.

‘Twenty-one,’ the teen answers easily, hoping confidence will get him through the lie. It doesn’t. ‘Seventeen,’ he grumbles a moment later, shoulders sagging. Thompson shakes his head.

‘I won’t let a kid get hurt on my watch.’

‘Trust me, chief, I wouldn’t be taking him with me if I didn’t think he could stand his own ground.’ Steve sends an encouraging smile and Peter answers it with a similar one. It’s nice to have someone believe in you. That’s one of the things he misses about Tony.

‘But,’ Jarvis splutters, ‘I could be of assistance!’

‘It’s all right, mr Jarvis, we’ll be fine on our own,’ Peggy assures. Edwin doesn’t seemany happier with that. Peter knows the look – to be benched against one’s own will, to be underestimated. It’s frustrating, infuriating.

When the pre-mission meeting is done and the chiefs gather their agents, he sits down next to mr Jarvis and Morgan.

‘Hey, uh, I know it sucks to be side-lined. Trust me, I used to sit there a lot. It’s gonna get better though. Just keep believing in yourself and one day they’ll see what you can do.’

‘Thank you,’ Jarvis smiles, though he looks confused and still very much disappointed.

‘You know, uh, I wouldn’t let just anyone watch my Mor. Take care of her, yeah?’

‘Absolutely. Young miss Morgan is in good hands.’

The girl herself requires even more reassurance before she can let Peter go. ‘I still want you to stay,’ she sniffles into his shoulder, and his heart might just burst with regret. God, this sucks.

‘I know, Mor, I know. I’ll be back soon, I promise. Pinky promise.’

She sticks out her tiny finger and grips his like it’s a matter of life and death. ‘Pinky promise,’ she repeats seriously.

‘Pete,’ Steve calls from by the open door. The chiefs are instructing the field agents outside, Peggy watching over the operation and correcting them when needed. ‘It’s time to go.’

‘Bye Mor. I’ll miss you.’

‘I miss you too,’ she says. ‘Love you Petey.’

Peter stops in his steps, turning back to the four and a half year old he’s been taking care of the last few days. The lollipop’s long gone but she’s still calm. Her brown hair falls into her face and she tries to blow it away with a level of concentration that could rival May’s when she’smaking another futile attempt at cooking.

‘I love you too,’ he realises. It shouldn’t be such a revelation. How could he not love her? How could anyone not want to lay down their life for her?

‘It’s all right,’ Steve assures him when the door slides shut behind them, ‘We’ll be back in no time.’

* * *

The warehouse lies directly in lieu with some kind of factory that’s supposed to produce cars, but they can’t rule it out as a hiding place for the goons they’re chasing so chief Sousa offers to take his team there first. Peggy sanctions the change of plan and sends Thompson through the main entrance on his own. Steve’s got the impression that the chiefs won’t find it too hard to draw attention to themselves, so there’s not much to worry about.

‘Okay,’ Peter jumps, probably already high on adrenaline, ‘where do we go miss Peggy?’

‘There’s a back-door on the south-west corner. It’ll be easy enough to pick, assuming Howard’s brought his device.’

‘Hey,’ Stark protests, ‘I’d never forsake a moment to show the brilliance of my inventions.’

Carter rolls her eyes and Rogers smiles. He’s missed the two of them.

‘There’s no use standing around here then,’ she says, starting to walk across the empty parking lot. Her low heels click cheerfully against gravelled asphalt but he knows she can turn it into quiet sneaking at a moment’s notice. God, he loves her. ‘Come on, boys.’

‘Wait,’ Peter says, suddenly nervous, ‘this is, like, a mission moment, right? I mean, you’re suited up,’ he points to Steve’s not so subtle red, white and blues. ‘Shouldn’t I be too?’

‘Yeah, now’s probably a good time for that.’

The kid seems relieved, pressing his web-shooters in a rapid combination. They follow Peggy and Howard as the Iron Spider suit materialises. Having never seen it before, her mouth hangs open, puzzlement wrinkling her nose.

‘Oh,’ she says at last. ‘That’s…’

‘The future,’ Stark finishes with a mischievous glint in his eye. ‘If there’s any time after all of this is over, I’m gonna have to look that suit over.’

‘You know you can’t,’ Steve chastises him. The inventor’s got too much of an appetite for things he shouldn’t even know exist, and it’s starting to worry him.

‘Eh.’ Howard jogs up to Peggy to take the front. Rogers sighs. They’ll have to talk it over another time.

It’s cloudy overhead but still quite bright, so they take care when sneaking through the barb-wired fence. Peter hops up and over it with ease, the red panels glinting even in the low light. There’s a gap on his back where an old, white t-shirt peaks through his suit.

‘What happened there?’ Steve asks once he’s gotten over the wire as well. The others busy themselves cutting through it instead, which on second thought might be better as it means they run a smaller risk at being seen. The boy shrugs.

‘It’s a prototype. Mr- Tony never finished it. I’m all out of web-fluid as well, and Karen’s offline, but I figured it’s better than nothing.’

‘Yeah,’ the Captain agrees, dismissing the mention of this unknown Karen. He never knew Tony was working on another suit – for five years they were positive Peter and everyone else were dead and gone, forever. Perhaps it’s a relic from before, perhaps Stark never really lost hope. Or, perhaps, he started it once the mobius strips were all figured out.

It must feel comforting. Wearing the last thing the kid’s mentor, hero, and father-figure made him.

A faraway shout sounds and then a blaring alarm – Thomspon and Sousa have made their entrances. They’re not getting a warm welcome, but it’s not like they expected one. A shot is fired. The distraction’s begun.

Peggy takes the lead again, darting between shadows in her suitingly black stealth-attire. Steve feels a bit silly doing the same in vibrant colours but it’s a necessary precaution and they get to the door soon enough anyhow.

‘God,’ Peter exclaims, covering his nose, ‘what is that _smell?_ ’

‘What d’you mean?’ Howard asks as he connects his machine to the steel. It sports three anchoring feet and one, small display with a number-pad underneath.

‘It _stinks._ ’

‘I don’t smell anything,’ Peggy notes, inhaling deeply to make sure.

‘Peter’s… special. He’s got better senses. Does it smell poisonous?’

‘No, it’s just like something’s rotting nearby. Ugh, I’m gonna throw up.’

The machine whirs and beeps to a quickening beat and with more insistence by the minute. Howard grunts, jabbing the numbers harder. That only makes for one of the feet to spew sparks and emit a long, suffering groan of bending metal.

‘No no _no!_ Agh! Piece of junk.’

‘Howard,’ Peggy starts with rising suspicion, ‘your machine does work, right?’

‘It should! I never encountered this problem before. They must have some heavy duty locks, computerised, far more advanced than this old thing’s designed for.’

‘Then how on Earth do you expect us to enter?’

‘I’m pretty sure I see a window up there,’ Peter speaks up, gesturing to twenty or so feet up the brick wall. ‘I could get the door from inside.’

He looks over for approval, glancing to the two people present who don’t yet know his secret.

‘No short-cuts and no wandering off,’ Steve warns and Parker nods and makes a mock-salute.

‘Yes Captain Rogers sir!’

‘Hang on,’ Howard starts, probably about to point out that there’s no way any ordinary human could get there without special equipment. He doesn’t get any further before the teen jumps up, ten feet high, and starts to effortlessly scale the wall. ‘What the _hell?_ ’

‘Told you he’s special.’

‘How is he doing that?’ Peggy asks, fascinated, ‘Some kind of adhesive built into his gloves? He can’t just be that good a climber, there’s nothing to hang onto.’

‘There’s not really an easy explanation for it. As a matter of fact, I’m not that sure myself.’

‘You never thought to ask?’

‘Uh, guys?’ Peter looks down at them, crouched beside the window. ‘There’s gonna rain down glass soon. You should probably move.’

They back up, watching from a distance as the teen easily punches through the window and climbs inside, feet first. His fingertips stick to the bricks, holding his entire weight up for a few seconds. It’s like watching a magic trick unfold.

‘The future’s weird,’ Howard states matter-of-factly.

‘You have no idea.’

‘Peter, do you read us?’ Peggy says through the comms. Static greets them at first, then the teen’s voice grinds through as well.

‘Something’s interfering with the signal. Ugh, Steve, this is horrible – please don’t tell me this is how you grew up. No internet, no equality and houses smelling like shi-’ The static cuts the last syllable short, coming and going in waves. The technology, though Stark-made, doesn’t come close to the 21st century.

‘It might surprise you, but I actually lived in an apartment building and it smelled like lemons.’

‘No way. I thought they made and packaged you in one of these factories.’

Howard snorts, ‘I like this kid. Let’s keep him.’

‘Any guards?’ Carter asks, ever the one to stay on the task at hand.

‘No, not yet- oh, hello there! Man, I didn’t see you.’ A shuffle sounds through the static, and there’s something that might have been a scream but it’s getting hard to tell. ‘Shit! Ah, sorry dude, but I don’t have my webs on me and I really need you to stay still. Okay, okay he’s breathing, just knocked out. I’ve got it under control miss Peggy!’

‘If you say so. Find the door yet?’

‘Uh, yeah, sure- just, ah, down the stairs and probably to the right- here, got it. Oh my god, oh god it’s even worse here. It smells so bad, I swear to god-’

The door swings open and Peter stumbles outside, mask de-materialising as he gasps and coughs. ‘Okay,’ he states, ‘air filtration systems _definitely_ not online.’

A faint hint of foulness is bleeding out the doorway now. Peggy tugs at a scarf around her neck, bringing it up to cover her nose. It reminds Steve of Bucky when they first met after all those years of thinking each other dead – Bucky in the muzzling mask, brain-washed and scared beneath it all.

He’s out there right now, held captive by Hydra. It would be so easy to rescue him.

‘Steve?’ she asks, ‘Are you coming?’

‘Yeah, sorry. Just got lost in my thoughts, I guess.’

‘You can daydream however much you like about Peg some other time,’ Howard says, waving the whiffs of stench away as he steps over the threshold. ‘After we’ve survived this hell-hole. Ugh, when we’re all done here we really must call Health and Safety.’

‘I think it’s a dead animal,’ Peter says, pulling a face before he steps inside too. ‘It’s- it’s almost too much for me to say, but I’m pretty sure it’s on this floor to our left.’

‘Any chance your weapon stinks?’ Carter asks, gun in hand as she readies herself to traverse the silent corridor.

‘It was supposed to be a coffee grinder, remember? I wouldn’t put something like this in my kitchen.’

‘One can never tell with you.’

‘Hey!’

‘Shh!’

They freeze, Steve with his hand on the door-handle having just closed it. Parker’s head whips back and forth, and he pulls the communication device out of his ear, listening intently.

‘We’re running out of time,’ he whispers. ‘Some of the guards are moving away from Thompson’s guys. I can’t really- I can’t tell, but I think they’re going to go get something, and it might be the weapon. We- we gotta move.’

He shoots forward, running on light feet.

‘Enhanced hearing,’ Rogers informs his friends on the way to follow the kid.

‘Anything else we should know about him?’ Peggy asks, setting the fact away for later.

‘Yeah, he’s got this sense of danger, like he can tell if someone’s gonna shoot at you. If Peter says duck, drop like your life depends on it. It probably does.’

‘Future’s very weird,’ Howard repeats, tossing his malfunctioned machine to the side. They won’t need it anyway.

Peter’s right – they meet a group of guards that he must have already sneaked past. So much for staying together. Peggy decks the first one, sweeping the leg of the second while Steve punches the last hard enough to send him flying at least seven feet before hitting the ground. Howard kicks the side of one of the unconscious men on his way past them. She sends him a disapproving look.

‘What? I’m starting to feel like I’m not doing anything here.’

‘Whoa whoa whoa! Easy now!’

They perk up at the sound of Parker’s voice. The Captain reaches for a gun at his belt – it’s not his preferred method of fighting, but he’d rather be ready if the kid’s in trouble. The further they go down the corridor, the stronger the stench; Steve understands the kid’s comment on throwing up now. He’s starting to feel nauseous himself with it burning up his nostrils and he’s not even got half the sense of smell Peter has.

As soon as they round the corner an open door greets them letting them see into the next room. The kid has his hands held high in surrender. He’s talking to someone else out of sight, moving slowly inside and supposedly towards the assailant. Something looking worryingly like bloody intestines and animal hides lie discarded on the floor in a heap. It must be fresh seeing as the flies haven’t found it yet.

‘Come on. Whatever you think you’ll get out of this, there’s gotta be another way. Maybe we could help each other out?’

‘Don’t move!’ a deep voice barks. Something whirs to life and Howard mumbles a few curses that sets Peggy into motion. She quickly enters the room, gun held high,

‘Drop the weapon and step away from him! Now!’

When Steve follows he has to stop himself from flinching back. There are at least three more bodies in the room – deer, by the looks of it – and they’re covered in a glowing yellow substance. The anxious, large man Rogers assumes has been threatening Peter doesn’t back off, but he doesn’t fire the heavy-looking weapon he’s holding either. There’s a Stark Industries logo blasted across the square side of it.

‘You really shouldn’t have emptied the fuel-tank,’ Howard comments breezily even in the face of danger, ‘That thing’s useless without it.’

‘Stark. I’ve studied your invention for quite some time. You don’t think I’ve found a way to replicate your work, huh? With all the experiments I’ve made?’ The crook gestures to the cadavers on the floor, flipping a dully brown fringe out of his eyes. It must’ve been months since he last showered.

‘I highly doubt it, pal. I added a secret ingredient I’m pretty sure you’ve never even heard of.’

‘Oh yeah? You wanna test that theory?’ Fringe presses down a bit on what seems to be a trigger on the weapon. Its square barrel looks too much like an over-grown shot-gun for Steve’s comfort.

‘Easy now,’ Peggy commands, ‘drop the gun. The SSR is already in the building, it’s over. Surrender yourself-’

‘Or else? What is this – some rich guy takes his latest doll out on a secret mission? And dresses some other guy up as Captain America? Come on, don’t act like you think that could fool me. You’re alone in this.’

A few shots sound from the entrance once more, echoing through the eerie building. Fringe swallows – despite his words, he’s scared. Sweat beads gather at his hairline.

‘We’re with the SSR,’ Carter repeats, ‘Surrender or we’ll make you.’

‘No. You’re gonna leave, or I’ll fire this thing.’

‘You’re outnumbered,’ Steve reminds him.

‘I’m not bluffing. If I’m destined for hell, I’m taking you all with me.’

‘Hey buddy,’ Howard interrupts, hands held high with a flippant smile on his face, ‘I’ll admit, I’d rather you didn’t destroy that thing. It won’t do what you want if you shoot, though, I can guarantee you that – it’s not gonna explode, it’s just gonna-’

‘Like I’ll take your word for it. You just want it for yourself!’

‘Yeah, that’s what I just _said-_ ’

‘Shut up!’

Something on the far wall of the room – a laboratory, perhaps, going by the test tubes of animal bloods and other substances scattered about on the tables – catches the Captain’s eye. It’s a faint red, like old graffiti, hidden in the shadows… a skull with octopus arms beneath it.

‘This used to be a Hydra facility,’ he realises.

‘No. It _is_ a Hydra facility.’

The guy doesn’t look like a seasoned agent. He must have been bribed, or more likely, threatened to join the organisation. The years after the war was, _is,_ Hydra’s lowest point. There’s not much of it left. They must be desperate for new recruits and weaponry.

‘Whatever they have on you, we can help. We’ll make sure your family’s all right-’

‘No! I am loyal ‘till the end.’ Fringe looks around frantically, like he’s being watched, listened to, and swallows visibly again. Determination hardens his features. Beside the Captain, Peter’s body language changes into preparation. ‘Hail Hydra!’

Peggy manages to get off a shot before the weapon fires – Steve barely glances the bullet hitting its mark before the kid pushes him out of harm’s way whilst a shrill blast echoes through the building. The high frequency vibrates through his very bones.

Something’s wrong. It’s getting way too dark, way too cold. Through a haze, he looks down at his hand and flinches at the sight. Red.

Steve’s head hurts. Something’s wrong. He lays back down and closes his eyes.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> :))))))))
> 
> (pls don't kill me until you know what happens on sunday ,:))


	15. Chapter 15

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> this is a bit of an early update (at least in my time zone) but I just realized i've got several christmas-related things i have to get done tomorrow and i might be too busy to update! so here's the next part, where i prove i did not forget about rhodey and pepper 
> 
> also i changed the rating from gen to teen because of all the swearing :) enjoy!

‘Fuck. And don’t you dare school me – this warrants a fuck, this is- this is beyond words – fucking _shit!_ Fuck!’

‘I know, Pep,’ Rhodey bargains exasperatedly, trying to stay calm, ‘But we can fix it, I’m sure we can-’

‘It’s broken,’ Pepper exclaims. Her faceplate’s as stone-faced as ever but the desperation is clear in her voice. Rhodes very much agrees with it, and he would join in on her cursing if it weren’t for the fact that their quantum suits are malfunctioning and at least one of them has to keep a clear head and fix the problem. He’s military, he’s learned a few tricks to help him stay calm in pressing situations. Besides, Tones would want him to do his best to get the kids back.

_God. Don’t go there,_ _not right now_ _._

‘It still says we’re in the right time.’

‘This isn’t late May, it’s winter,’ Pepper says, kicking a puddle of fresh snow. The display panel on the Colonel’s wristband still reads _May_ _21_ _st_ _, 1947, New Jersey, United States, Earth._ It doesn’t make any sense.

‘I know. I don’t know how to change it though – we should try to get back, have dr Pym look it over, he made those new improvements we didn’t use last time we travelled-’

‘Rhodey.’ Pepper jogs over to the side of the factory they’ve found themselves stranded by, the suit whirring lowly as it moves with her. She crouches, picking up a glinting piece of metal from a spot that’s yet been spared from snow. ‘It’s from Peter’s suit.’

‘How sure are you?’ he asks gravely, joining her. His interface tries to run a recognition on the scrap, but without extended satellite data bases at hand there’s no direct match. Still, his heart beats faster, because it’s certainly the same colour and sheen as the Iron Spider suit.

‘Positive. I just- I know it. He was here.’ Pepper’s face-plate retracts, revealing her paling features. ‘It could be from months ago.’

‘Or they’re still here.’

‘No,’ she shakes her head, hard, ‘it must’ve been like six months since if it’s winter now, they can’t still be stuck here-’

‘We don’t know anything for sure yet,’ Rhodey tries to reassure her, but cold dread is rising up his own throat. It’s bad enough Peter could have been stuck here for half a year, but Morgan… That’s a big chunk of her short life.

No military training has prepared him for this, none could have. It’s getting harder and harder to stay calm.

‘If anything’s happened to them,’ Pepper starts but doesn’t seem to even contemplate finishing. It doesn’t bear saying. Rhodey nods.

‘Yeah. I’m gonna do a lot more than say _fuck_ then, too.’

* * *

‘Well done, Peg. You killed him.’

It’s gone dark real fast, but Peter’s eyes are good at adjusting and he can still see clearly despite the power going out. It’s freezing cold and he’s pretty sure he isn’t imagining it when his feet slide almost like on ice across the floor. A shiver runs up his back. _Heating systems not online. Dam_ _mit_ _._

On a positive note, they’re not dead yet. The weapon-thingy didn’t explode and the guy with the questionable hair-cut’s dead, thanks to miss Peggy. He doesn’t usually condone killing, but as long as he doesn’t look at the body, it’s fine. Perhaps it’s childish of him, especially so when he killed countless beings when they fought Thanos, but still. He doesn’t look.

The blast did send a violent pulse through the building but Peter’s pretty sure he took the brunt of it. The spider-sense alerted him like always and he managed to get every member of his team out of the way on time. There’s got to be some nasty bruising forming across his ribs, though, going by how it’s getting difficult to move. Once the adrenaline wears off it’s gonna suck.

‘We’re not dead,’ miss Peggy notes as well, sitting back up with a grunt. And, on another positive note, the building feels structurally sound – there’s no shifting, moving or otherwise at-risk-of-collapsing behaviour at hand, so all should be well. It’s still awfully cold, though.

‘Of course we’re not dead. I never built a death-machine, it was a coffee grinder, remember?’

‘You said it went awry. With deadly consequences.’

‘Yes, and it did, but not like you think.’ Howard rises from the floor, brushing off dust from his jacket. Another thing Peter doesn’t like looking at. ‘Hopefully since it was messed with, the effects won’t last. Well, I say hopefully.’

‘That doesn’t sound too optimistic.’

He doesn’t like dust, so he doesn’t look too closely at what Stark brushes off his shoulder – but then he notices the same white on his own hands and it’s not dust at all. It’s not even ash.

It’s snow.

‘Uh… why’s it snowing?’

The blast made his head hurt and he’s pretty sure his ears are bleeding – damned enhanced hearing – so it’s harder to focus. Maybe he’s hallucinating. He rubs his eyes, thinking the mirage will disappear, but no, the windows have all shattered and the wind’s blowing white, fluffy flakes inside. Like a broken snow globe, spilling winter into what’s supposed to be a hot summer day.

‘My coffee grinder’s not a coffee grinder any more,’ Howard explains, approaching the weapon warily. ‘It alters the weather. At first I thought, hey, I can guarantee a white Christmas, that’s nice. But then I tried it and caused the Great Toronto Snowstorm of ‘44. I know what you’re gonna say, Peg, but I really didn’t mean to. And I fixed it, just like I’ll fix this. I promise! And… you’re being too quiet given what I just confessed to.’

‘Steve’s hurt.’

Miss Peggy kneels beside the Captain’s crumpled form, examining his lax face. Peter jogs over, heart in his throat – shit, that doesn’t look too good. There’s a cut on Steve’s forehead trickling blood and his nose is scrunched up in pain.

There’s also a pool of blood around him that’s way too large for anyone to survive, but it looks like it’s coming from one of the cadavers and bears a darker colour that might further indicate this. Hopefully it is.

‘I’m okay,’ he mumbles, but still doesn’t open his eyes.

‘I- I’m sorry, I think I might’ve hit him too hard- I was trying to get you all out of the way, I was really stressed-’

‘Relax.’ One of Cap’s eyes opens halfway to watch the teen with lazy mirth. ‘I’ve survived worse. You don’t look too good either.’

‘What? Me? Oh, I’m fine.’ Miss Peggy looks Parker over sceptically, her gaze landing on the left side of his face. ‘What?’

‘You look like you’ve been decked by King Kong.’

‘What?’ He dabs a few careful fingers over the area, wincing as they come in contact with his eyebrow. Yeah, that’s gonna bruise, all right. Damned blast. ‘That’s- that’s fine. I’m fine. And hey – you know about King Kong? That’s awesome.’

‘You know it came out in ‘33, right?’ Steve mumbles.

‘Yeah, but- still. That’s cool. Your girlfriend’s awesome. I mean not just ‘cause of the reference, but in general.’

Miss Peggy blushes slightly and so does Cap. Oh. Maybe they haven’t gotten to that point in their relationship yet.

‘So...’ Howard starts, hovering anxiously over Rogers, ‘he’s gonna be fine, right?’

The Captain lifts an upturned thumb and then drops his hand with a small groan. ‘Never been better,’ he mumbles.

Miss Peggy nods like that’s enough to persuade her and stands up again. She walks over chirping, broken glass and the remnants of a table, stopping to examine the body. Two fingers to his wrist and a small shake of the head confirms he’s dead. Then she digs up some papers from under the snow. ‘That’s not good.’

‘What is it?’ Peter asks, seeing as Howard’s too busy hovering.

‘Well, first of all – I don’t think he was lying. This is Hydra.’ She holds up the folder, flipping through its contents with a deepening frown. Just beside her left knee lie broken vials and mixed substances, and aside that, the snow-making coffee grinder. That doesn’t sit well with Peter – something’s wrong.

‘But Hydra’s fallen,’ Howard argues, finally snapping out of whatever he was thinking about.

‘Not really,’ Steve mumbles. ‘Sons of bitches always come back.’

_W_ _oah_ _, I’ve never heard Steve swear before._ _Didn’t we watch a PSA in school about swearing?_ _Ned_ _is so never gonna_ _believe me._

‘Second of all, they were looking to improve the weapon. They exchanged some of the parts, including the Vibranium. It’s stated as gone.’

‘What do you mean gone?’ Parker asks even though he’s got a feeling he doesn’t really want to know. Howard jogs over, resulting in even more shards of glass broken scattering about the room.

‘They sent it off to a classified facility.’

‘Damn,’ Stark curses, reading over miss Peggy’s shoulder.

‘Then we’ll go after it,’ Peter says.

‘It could be anywhere-’

‘We can’t just give up!’

‘We’re not,’ Steve interferes, sighing as he opens his eyes and tries to sit up. ‘We just- have to rethink, re-plan. We still have one suit. One of… one of us could go to the future, get more, come back-’

‘You don’t understand – Strange won’t let us do this, especially not me, so once we get back there I’ll be stuck! We can’t- look, we just can’t give up!’

‘Easy,’ Howard says like he’s a child throwing a tantrum and Peter feels his ears heat up. Perhaps if he’d stop for one moment and do as Cap says, calm down, he’d find a solution like he always does – but there’s a desperate panic growing in his chest and he can’t deal with it right now. He can’t, and still it’s there, ever-persistent.

And on top of everything – the snow is cold, but it looks too much like dust. It doesn’t belong here. He doesn’t either. And Tony… Tony’s gone, and maybe it’s forever.

‘I- I need some air.’

He jumps out of a broken window, easing the fall by grabbing onto a nearby building before touching the ground. It tugs at the skin around his ribs and he lands far less than gracefully. His team won’t need him to finish the mission – the chiefs have probably already seized all of the other Hydra goons, so that’s not really a problem either. Normally he’d make sure, do a patrol around the area and see if anyone needs his help, but he can’t right now. What good can he do if he can’t even save Tony who’s done so much for him? How can he still call himself a hero?

What a sorry excuse of a _friendly neighbourhood Spider-man_ he makes. Peter kicks a puddle of snow that’s inconveniently in his path of sullen despair. Howard’s weapon has made the temperature drop a good twenty or thirty degrees and the snow is still falling down thick, but there doesn’t seem to be a storm brewing. The wind is light at its worst. It’s still gonna cause some ruckus in the city, but he doubts there’ll be any casualties. That’s good.

Maybe Morgan is watching it fall from a window in the SSR’s office right at this moment, asking mr Jarvis if Christmas has come early.

_What the hell am I gonna tell her?_

He can’t. He can’t face her like this, not until they know where the Vibranium went, not until they know they can still _fix this._

As he rounds a corner, still deep in hopeless thoughts, a conversation draws his attention – he glances to the side, thinking it’ll be Sousa or Thompson. Instead, he finds what he least of all expects.

First of all, there’s a man rather suspiciously climbing out of a window. Hydra without a doubt, trying to escape; an old suitcase is pressed between his arm and chest, possibly loaded with secret Hydra documents or other weapons. But that’s not the strangest of all.

A few feet away stand two familiar armours with their backs to the teen. One is steel grey, painted with the white numerals 003, the other a gold paired with navy. When the latter opens, a woman stumbles out of it, shivering in a thin blouse and flared pants. Her hair’s a reddish blonde, flowing over her shoulders as she approaches the Hydra agent,

‘Excuse me sir? Could you tell us the date-’

The spider-sense screams, all the hairs on his body standing up and Peter runs, faster than he ever has as the agent draws a revolver. Parker front flips over the all too familiar woman before punching the gun straight out of the criminal’s grip, ducking as the crook retaliates but not before the agent has his other hand around the teen’s throat. Being not the slightest bit enhanced, it’s easy to tear the hand away, but no sooner has he done that before a blast sounds.

No, scratch that. _Two_ blasts.

The Rescue armour has rematerialised around Pepper and she and Rhodey both aim for the goon; their repulsor beams cross, and there’s a bright light just like when Howard’s weapon went off, and then they’re all sent flying like cows in a tornado.

‘What… what the hell?’ Peter pants, the bruises on his ribs throbbing even more than before. It all happened so fast – surely he must have imagined it, hallucinated… He slowly makes it up on his feet, holding his side, and there they are. Just like the snow appeared out of thin air, there they stand. He chokes on brisk air.

The Rescue armour doesn’t fully release this time, but the face-plate moves back just like War Machine’s. Rhodey and Pepper stare at him in varied states of shock. Then they lower their hands as one, powering down the repulsors.

‘Peter?’ Pepper asks, and it’s not at all like he’d expected it to be. Far less vicious, far less blaming. He took her daughter away. Peter hurt Morgan, it’s all his fault. He wants to run again, far away before she can begin screaming the accusations he deserves – he stands frozen in place as she approaches, only flinching on instinct as she raises one hand to touch the side of his face.

‘Oh- oh my god, Peter!’ Pepper presses him close to her chest, breathing out a relieved laugh over his shoulder, only pulling back to ask, ‘Is Morgan with you? God, please tell me she’s-’

‘She’s safe. She’s- she’s with a friend.’

‘Thank god.’ Colonel Rhodes joins them, putting a hand on Parker’s shoulder. ‘We thought we’d lost you both, we thought this was the wrong date! How long have you been here?’

‘Oh. ‘Cause it’s snowing in May,’ Peter states in a detached tone of voice. He can’t bring himself to feel anything, he’s still waiting for the blow to come. ‘It’s- it’s just been a week, maybe.’

‘What’s wrong?’ Pepper asks, examining his face. ‘What happened here, were you in a fight?’

‘Yeah. It’s a long story.’ He looks down at the ground, can’t bear himself to meet either of their eyes.

‘Peter,’ she beckons, ‘Peter look at me.’ And to his own surprise, he does. She doesn’t seem angry. She doesn’t look like she’s going to beat the crap out of him either, which is weird, really. What she says next is even stranger. ‘I forgive you.’

‘No.’

‘I forgive you Pete.’

He continues to shake his head, the tears gathered from everything that’s happened welling up just like yesterday with Morgan. ‘No, don’t-’

‘Hey,’ Rhodey interrupts, ‘It’s all right, what’s done is done. It’s okay now. We’re gonna take you home, both of you.’ He extends one hand, uncurling the suit’s fingers around two pieces of glinting metal; two shining new mobius strips, one for him and one for Morgan. Oh. _Oh._

They won’t need the vibranium after all. It will work.

Peter practically throws himself into Rhodes’ arms, feeling the knot in his stomach unravel all at once. There’s a way now, they have a way to get to Tony, this was the final puzzle piece! It’s gonna work. It’s practically done already.

‘Thank you,’ he sniffles into the Colonel’s metal chest, ‘Thank you, thank you, _thank you._ ’

‘Don’t worry about it, kid,’ Rhodey assures him, giving his back a reassuring pat, ‘we’ve got you.’

‘We found a piece of your suit,’ Pepper says beside him, ‘I thought something had happened to you. I mean, it still looks like something did, but – did you get in trouble?’

‘It’s- it’s a long story. My suit’s breaking apart.’ It’s not usually something he’d laugh about but Peter does it anyway. Then he cries again, not even sparing a thought about how he’s clinging onto Colonel James Rhodes, the Iron Patriot, like a child when they’ve only met once before.

‘It’s okay,’ she says, mistaking the cause of his tears, ‘we’ll get it fixed once we’re home.’

‘I know. It’s gonna be fine now. We- god, we gotta tell Morgan, we gotta tell Steve!’

‘Wait – Steve, as in Steve Rogers?’

‘Yeah, yeah he found us when we got here.’ The teen pulls back, wiping his nose on the back of his hand distractedly. Where did he come from now again? Never-mind – they were supposed to meet back at the parking lot, that’s where Steve will be. Eventually. The Hydra agent is still knocked out on the ground but they’ll have to bring him with them to hand over to the SSR. And they need to get back to the station, to Morgan, and fly back to L.A. and the Pym particles to restock for a round trip. He’s pretty sure Pepper and Rhodey didn’t plan for another stop on the way.

The plan unfolds smoothly in his head like a map, now complete with its destination. There’s nothing left – it’ll work. It will. No more ifs, no buts.

‘There’s… there’s a lot I gotta tell you guys. Ugh, it’s been a long week.’

‘For us too,’ Pepper says with prominent, dark bags under her eyes. ‘Longest week of my life.’ She laughs, at first without humour, like a dry sob, but then her face splits up into genuine relief. ‘God, Peter, we were so _worried._ ’

‘I know,’ he says, hugging her again. ‘I’m sorry.’

‘May would’ve killed me if we hadn’t found you.’

Peter freezes. ‘Wait, she knows?’

‘Yeah – it’s been a bit over one week for us too, kid, it’s not like I could’ve hidden it.’

He lets out a strained laugh, resting his head against her cold, metal chest. It sends flashbacks to when he finally found Tony in the battle, the last moment they talked before… before mr Stark couldn’t hear him any more.

‘Geez. Aunt May’s gonna kill me.’

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> they found each other!!! now we are about to officially move on to the last part of the story where I'll prove the fix-it tag wasn't just a farce :) 
> 
> Seeing as Thursday is christmas eve (which is what my family celebrates), the next chapter will be out wednesday! after that we're back to the same old schedule. Happy Holidays to everyone who's celebrating! and as always, thank you so much for all the lovely comments :3 <3


	16. Chapter 16

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> tw - this chapter contains an instance of period-typical verbal racism. It's very brief but I thought I'd give a head's up anyway

‘I’m fine,’ Steve says but still doesn’t take his arm off Peggy’s shoulders. She’s helping him move but it seems the effects of the weapon are wearing off because it’s getting easier to think again. Pronunciation’s also getting better – his tongue is no longer like a dead fish in his mouth. On the whole, it could’ve been worse.

‘I’ll believe that when you can walk a straight line,’ she quips, though her eyes are more filled with concern than mirth.

‘Thank you for helping me.’

‘Of course. You’d do the same for me, so.’

‘I would.’

‘Get a room,’ Howard sighs, rounding yet another puddle of melting snow. While he’d at first watched Steve like he was going to die – again – he’s recently retreated into his old self. Peggy kicks up a splash and it lands right at the top of his expensive, leather shoes. ‘Jesus, Peg! Why would you do that? I had these imported from Italy!’

‘At least the melting indicates we won’t have to deal with a snowstorm.’

‘Yeah,’ Stark admits begrudgingly, ‘I’m thinking I probably only spurred the existing storm on in Toronto, and since it’s summer now, all we’ll get is some light snowfall. I’m sure there won’t even be that many… casualties.’

‘Let’s just hope the temperature doesn’t persist so you don’t get labelled a terrorist. Again.’

‘Hey, I thought you had my back on that! Look, just blame Hydra for it and it’ll all be good. And, as for last time I was called a terrorist-’

‘If the public knew Hydra has persisted, there’d be mass hysteria,’ Peggy points out.

‘Fine. Just don’t blame it on me.’

They step over the small fencing that surrounds Daisy’s diner’s parking lot. It’s lined with delicate flowers, swiftly wilting with every cold swab of snow that hits them. Team Sousa and most of team Thompson are already there, though Jack himself and two other agents are still missing.

‘Chief’s taking a last look at the place, making arrests – we already shipped off a handful of people from the factory for questioning,’ Sousa brings them up to speed. He glances worriedly to the Captain. ‘You injured?’

‘It’s nothing.’

‘Howard’s weapon fired,’ Peggy explains, ‘the Captain and young Peter took most of it. No one was fatally harmed, save for the poor chap who fired it.’

‘And the snow?’

‘Stark’s fault.’

‘Hey – I thought we agreed it wasn’t!’ Howard cuts in, but no one pays much attention to him. Steve feels the looks Sousa is giving him, taking notice of the way he’s still pressed tightly against Peggy. He lowers his arm, carefully shifting his weight onto his own two feet again. He hopes she won’t take it the wrong way.

‘The man who fired claimed he was a part of Hydra,’ Carter continues, ‘If he’s right, we’re going to need every last man back at the precinct. We can’t let anyone go free.’

‘Hydra? As in, the nazis from the war?’

‘Yeah,’ Steve says. ‘The ones I thought I died saving us from.’

Sousa nods gravely, ‘I’ll send Thompson more back-up in case someone decides not to cooperate. He ought to know who we think we’re dealing with.’

‘I’ll lead them, I’m going back anyhow,’ Peggy nods. ‘Steve’s hurt and Peter’s still back there. He knows my face. Maybe I can get him to come back with me. Daniel, you could stay to await the next load of Hydra agents but I won’t stop you from coming with me either. Your call.’ She doesn’t wait for confirmation but simply turns on her heels to pick up the men accompanying her back inside.

‘I’ll just…’ Howard gestures in some vague direction, trotting off towards the diner. Several agents look longingly his way, rubbing their hands. Daisy’s beckons them with its warmth and promise of fresh food. It must be past lunchtime by now.

‘Yeah, I should probably-’ Sousa points to his men, looking very much like he’d rather be anywhere else than alone with Steve. It’s fair, but they can’t keep running from their problems.

‘Actually, uh… I’ve been meaning to ask you something. If you don’t mind.’

‘No, uh, of course. What can I do for you?’ The Chief crosses his arms, trying his hardest to seem approachable. Rogers thinks, that if they’d only met under different circumstances, they could’ve been good friends. Maybe it’s not too late for that.

‘I’m going to be straight-forward. I… I know the world’s gone on without me. And that’s good – great, actually, and… I don’t want to come back here and jump into your lives like I never left. I see the way you look at Peggy, and quite frankly, the way she looks at you. I’ve been meaning to ask her too, but, it’s...’

‘More intimidating?’

‘Yeah,’ Steve laughs awkwardly, holding his throbbing side. Sousa nods,

‘Yeah, I get it. But we- we aren’t, I mean we haven’t- we never… it’s fine.’

‘You sure? ‘Cause every time we end up in a room together, or a parking lot, it feels like we’re about to face each other in the ring.’

‘I never meant to be hostile, it’s just...’ Sousa runs a hand through his hair. ‘At first, I wasn’t sure if it really was you. You kept asking for Peggy, and I thought maybe you were some bad guy looking to hurt her, but you’re not. You’re far from it. And- and I shouldn’t be- I shouldn’t… there’s no jealousy between us, not on my part anyway.I have a girlfriend back home. And… I think I’m going to buy her a ring.’

‘Wow,’ Steve says at a loss of other words. That went a lot better than he ever could have hoped. ‘Does Peggy know?’

‘No, I suppose I haven’t told her yet. Maybe I should.’ Daniel clears his throat, flashing a small smile. ‘It’s time to move on. I should have a long time ago, but it feels better now that I know she’s in good hands. Not that she needs your protection, with all due respect-’

‘No, it’s more likely it’ll be the other way around,’ Cap smiles too. ‘Just look at today.’

‘Yeah. It’s always best to have a partner watch your six, though. I have a feeling that used to be Jarvis, and once it might even have been me, but with both of us on the west coast… Anyhow, now you’re here.’

‘Yeah.’

Sousa extends his right hand, moving the crutch to his left. Steve takes it. He tries not to squeeze too hard – the problem with super-strength is that sometimes people think he uses it deliberately as a threat. He holds no resentment towards Daniel Sousa, though. Far from it.

‘Good luck with your girl.’

‘Yeah, I’ll need it. Don’t know what she’s doing with a dofus like me in the first place.’

Rogers feels the tension leave his shoulders, bit by bit. ‘I’m sure she’ll say yes.’

‘I’ll keep my fingers crossed.’ The chief chuckles only to quiet once glancing something over the soldier’s shoulder. ‘Hey, that’s not our guys is it?’

Steve turns. Four people are walking towards the parking lot, one of them easily recognisable as Peter in his red suit. The kid’s got one hand around an unknown guy’s arm – probably Hydra – but he’s also flanked by two tall figures encased in gleaming metal.

‘Oh god,’ Steve says, shell-shocked, and Sousa definitely takes that the wrong way.

‘Stop right there!’ he orders, raising his gun. Behind them his agents notice and all follow suit. ‘Put your hands up and turn off the machines.’

‘Those aren’t machines- it’s all right.’ Rogers puts a hand on the gun, lowering it. ‘I- I know those people.’

The four have stopped in their tracks. A low whirring of moving parts sounds and the Rescue armour opens up to reveal Pepper Stark while the War Machine one does the same for Rhodes. Pepper jogs up to Steve as soon as the rest of the SSR puts their weapons down.

‘Oh god. Is it true that you found them? Steve, I can’t even- _thank you._ ’ As soon she’s close enough she pulls him into a tight hug.

‘How- how did you get here?’ he manages to get out over her shoulder.

‘Quantum suits,’ Peter exclaims, running up to them too. The Hydra operative in his grip can barely keep up. ‘They’ve got quantum suits, brand new ones! This is- we don’t even need the vibranium! Steve, we’re done, we have all the parts – we gotta get back to L.A., we gotta find Morgan-’

‘Slow down son,’ Sousa says, eyeing each of the newcomers. ‘Who are these people?’

‘This is Pepper, this is Rhodey – colonial Rhodes, sorry sir-’ the teen sends a deer-in-the-headlights kind of apologetic look Rhodey’s way and the man waves it off.

‘After all we’ve been through you can drop the title.’

‘Right. Right, and that’s- I don’t even know who that is, we brought him for you to put in jail or whatever, pretty sure he’s hiding something in that briefcase. Anyway, mobius strips! Quantum suits! And there’s two, we could use Morgan’s to get Tony back and then get Mor again and go back to the future-’

‘Woah,’ Rhodey starts only for Pepper to beat him to it.

‘God, Pete. I figured it was something like this- this is exactly why we destroyed the suits to begin with. Changing the past doesn’t work. It’s tempting-’ her eyes tear up- ‘but it’s just too dangerous. You don’t know what you’re dealing with.’

Peter turns his determination on Steve. ‘We gotta show them the letters. They’ll never believe us until then. And my phone’s back in California anyway, and we can’t just leave it in the past, so.’

‘You left your phone on the other side of the country?’ she raises an eyebrow. ‘I’ve never seen you leave it for more than a few seconds.’

‘We’ll explain more at the station, right? We gotta get back to Mor.’

Sousa shakes his head, clearly confused. ‘Hang on, you’re- from the future too?’

‘Can I please get into a car?’ the gruff Hydra goon speaks up, ‘It’s freezing out here.’

‘Yeah,’ the Captain finally finds his words again. The headache’s starting to return. ‘Let’s grab Howard and Peg, if she’s done, and head back. We’ll talk it out there. You can wrap up here, right?’ Sousa nods in response, not even trying to comprehend what’s happening any more.

‘Wait,’ Rhodes says, an expression appearing on his face that reads as _I’m beyond done with this shit_ _and you’ve got_ _to_ _be kidding me_ , ‘you didn’t… Tell me you don’t mean _that_ Howard.’

‘Someone say my name?’

Howard Stark prances out of Daisy’s wearing a fur-coat he definitely didn’t have before, chewing down on a steaming burger. ‘What?’ he questions their stares, ‘A little money can get you anything. Didn’t hurt that the waitress was gorgeous, I might’ve gotten caught up in, you know. Business.’ He takes another bite. ‘So… who are the newbies?’

‘God,’ Pepper says.

Rhodes sighs. ‘Strange isn’t going to be happy.’

* * *

Young miss Morgan is spinning around on chief Thompson’s rather expensive leather chair. The other agents in the office are watching with displeased frowns but Edwin can’t bear to tear her away from it. It’s simply too endearing. He’s going to be the one who gets yelled at, yes, but it’s worth it. Seeing as how he got acquainted with the SSR last year, there was bound to be some friction between him and the employees anyway. At least this way it’s all worth it.

‘Mommy says astronauts go really fast when they go to space. I feel like an astronaut. They get sick when they spin too.’

Jarvis puts a hand on the lush back of the chair to stop it. ‘What a preposterous thing, people going to space.’

‘They do,’ Morgan insists, only a little cross-eyed. ‘My daddy’s been there.’

‘Oh, really?’

‘Yeah. And I’m going too, ‘cause I wanna see the stars. And blue aliens.’

‘Goodness me, the future is exciting.’ He kneels in front of the little girl whose legs only barely bend over the edge of the seat. ‘Do you still feel like you’re going to be sick, miss Morgan?’

‘I’m good.’

‘Very well, then. I don’t suppose you’d mind accompanying me back to the conference room?’

‘Okay.’ She slides down onto the floor, wobbling slightly. ‘When’s Pete back?’

Jarvis glances to the clock. It’s been an hour since the mission was supposed to have ended. ‘Well, I’m quite sure he won’t be long now. Perhaps we should get some lunch.’

‘But we gotta wait for Pete! What if we’re not here when he comes?’

They’ve had this conversation a number of times now, but Edwin Jarvis is nothing if not a patient man. ‘All right. Let’s see if there’s any paper for you to draw on, then.’

He takes her tiny hand in his as they exit the chief’s office. The clock strikes one thirty and a few agents mill in, returning from their lunch-break discussing the events of the morning as well as some game of baseball that aired yester-eve. They part ways to get back to work. As the corridor clears, a familiar red, white and blue appears at the end of it. Captain Rogers, closely followed by his team.

‘Pete?’ Morgan calls out, standing on her tippy-toes as if that could help her see over the sea of legs. Jarvis considers hoisting her up on his shoulders, but then a woman breaks through the crowd of agents returning from the mission.

‘Morgan? Oh, _Morgan!_ Honey-’ she sweeps the girl up into her arms and Morgan leans back to stare into the stranger’s eyes- ‘oh, Morgan, my Morgan.’

‘Mommy?’ she whispers.

‘Yes honey. Oh god, I’ve missed you so much.’

‘Mommy!’ Morgan dives back into the hug, clinging onto the woman’s blouse hard enough to turn her knuckles white.

Heads turn as the Captain, Peter and another unknown man joins the group. Edwin spots Peggy a few feet away, debating something or other with chief Thompson.

‘You the guy who took care of Morgan just now?’ the unknown man asks and Jarvis nods. ‘We can’t thank you enough.’

‘Uncle Rhodes!’ the girl pipes up, sniffling in her – mother’s, apparently – arms.

‘Hey there Maguna. How have you been?’

‘I ate a lollipop,’ she sniffles. ‘And met a flamingo.’

‘Wow, that sounds exciting.’

‘Hang on,’ Jack Thompson speaks up, shoving his way past Carter, ‘Are you sure you know these people, Captain? They were found speaking to a Hydra operative-’

‘Hydra?’ Jarvis asks, a chill going down his back at the name.

‘-and for all we know they could have been aiding his escape. I just want to make sure.’ Thompson glances to Morgan’s mother, letting his gaze linger on the Uncle. As much as he has respect for mr Rogers, finding a coloured man at a crime-scene doesn’t seem to strike him as a simple coincidence.

‘Colonel Rhodes is a dear friend of mine,’ the Captain insists, puffing his chest slightly. He levels the chief with a look that could almost count as a glare. Rhodes himself copies it in a tired way, like he’s done it a hundred times before. Come to think of it, he probably has.

‘I’ve never heard of a Colonel like him. And why were they at the scene at all?’

‘We were looking for Morgan and Peter,’ the girl’s mother says. She looks to the boy, placing one hand across his back in a side hug. Jarvis smiles amidst the confusion. It’s nice to see a family reunited.

‘I’ll vouch for them as well,’ Peggy says.

‘Do you even know these people, Carter?’

‘I have faith in Steve and he says he knows them. Do you question his word, chief Thompson?’

Mr Thompson swallows his anger. ‘No,’ he manages to get out, eyes never leaving hers.

‘Good. Are we done here, then?’

‘Yeah, we have a plane to catch.’ Howard finally makes it to the group, squeezing into their circle between Rhodes and Peggy. ‘Jarvis, bring out the cars. Actually, we’ll probably need a third one. I didn’t think we’d be picking up this many people.’

‘Very well, sir.’ Edwin pretends not to hear the whispered _Jarvis?_ Morgan’s mother shares with the Colonel as if in some kind of realisation. Rhodes looks him over and something like recognition fills the man’s eyes, but Stark’s voice suggests it’s urgent and it’s a butler’s job to step up during pressing times.

‘Where to?’ Edwin asks.

‘The airport. We’re going back to sunny L.A.’

‘Wait, Stark, you can’t leave New York like this!’ Thompson starts to yell but Howard’s already slipping away again.

‘Just give it a few days, it’ll wear off!’

The chief turns to Peggy to further argue the unknown _it._ Edwin wonders where she finds the energy to keep picking up Stark’s messes. At least he gets paid for it.

‘What will?’ Jarvis asks. He prays they don’t have a Paris situation on their hands again, or, better yet, a _Toronto._

‘Not to worry,’ Howard says in the way that definitely means he _should_ worry, ‘It’s nothing the SSR’s fine men can’t handle.’

‘If you say so, sir.’

‘You didn’t happen to, uh, look out the window, did you?’

‘No...’

Stark chuckles. They’re at the elevator, seemingly not waiting for the rest of their company to join them. ‘Well, pal. You’re in for a surprise.’

Edwin mentally prepares himself for everything ranging from an obliterated Time’s Square to rhinos loose in the streets. ‘I’m sure I’ve seen worse, sir.’

Well. At least the children found their mother – any obstacle the universe decides to throw their way to retaliate the day’s luck is surely going to be well worth it.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> yay, steve and sousa finally had a talk! someone commented a few chapters back about how they'd probably be friends if it wasn't for the love triangle and you're absolutely right. they just needed to get through the awkwardness first :)
> 
> next time - pepper and rhodey are brought in on the plan and preparations begin :3


	17. Chapter 17

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> the team go over their plans and preparations begin

‘So… we can’t change the past, but as long as it doesn’t seem like we do, it’s fine?’

‘Yeah,’ Peter nods encouragingly, ‘we just gotta use the reality stone and make it look like Tony dies.’

‘But then how does Thanos disappear?’ Pepper shakes her head – it doesn’t make any sense. The kid’s been rambling her ear off since the plane ascended in New York. When the cars pulled up to the Stark residence – Tony’s _father’s_ house – she’d had to force him to at least catch a few hours of sleep, promising to listen further the next day. He’s more concise with his words now but she still finds it hard to grasp, hard to keep any hope alive when it could all so easily be taken away again.

‘We snap our fingers. If the energy’s distributed between us, we’ll survive the discharge, like when the guardians of the galaxy held the power stone!’

‘But how do we know it’s gonna work?’ Rhodey asks, ‘How do we know it won’t just kill us all?’

They’re sitting on hard chairs in Howard Stark’s basement where Peter’s eagerly presenting his plan for the crowd that is the two of them, Steve, Howard, Peggy and Jarvis. Morgan is steadily falling asleep in Pepper’s lap. Ever since they were reunited she hasn’t let her girl go out of fear something will happen and they’ll be separated again. Not that she’s had any reason to – ever since they were reunited, Morgan’s clinging onto her mother like a koala. The sun would sooner split into two than they’d let go of each other.

‘Dr Banner snapped and survived, right? And he’s- he’s got inhuman strength, so he could take it.’

‘The radiation was also mostly gamma,’ Pepper adds, rubbing her daughter’s back soothingly. ‘He said that’s what gave him such a good chance of making it.’

‘Yeah, ‘cause otherwise one person couldn’t do it. But if me and Steve go, that’s two – plus we’re enhanced.’

‘How would the energy even be distributed?’ Rhodey probes, ‘And it’s not like we’ve got an infinity gauntlet to begin with-’

‘Our suits can absorb the stones like- like Tony’s did. And if we’re physically connected-’

‘So your plan is to hold hands and hope for the best?’

‘It worked for the guardians of the galaxy!’

‘Two people instead of one doesn’t make much better odds,’ Pepper states calmly, ‘And you’re delusional if you think Tony’s not gonna figure out something’s wrong and let you switch places with him like that. You gotta somehow explain all of this to him or he’s gonna see a, an illusion of himself _dying_ and think it’s Thanos’ work. He’s gotta be in on it or he’ll try to stop you.’

‘And three people means greater odds for surviving,’ Steve finishes. Jarvis puts a cup of coffee in his hands and the Captain nurses it with both hands.

‘Four’s even better,’ Pepper says.

‘You mean five,’ Rhodey adds, ‘Because I’m sure going if you are.’

‘With all due respect,’ Peggy Carter speaks up, turning to Pep, ‘what happens to your daughter if the mission fails? She’ll lose both of her parents.’

‘I can’t sit this one out.’ And still, Carter’s right.

‘Sure you can. Just as I can help.’

‘Peggy,’ Steve starts, but she’s not having it.

‘You have five of these suits, isn’t that right? Four if you don’t count the one that will bring this Tony back to the future. That’s one for you, one for Peter, one for the Colonel – and one for me.’

‘Peggy, I can’t let you- I can’t _lose_ you.’

‘And I can’t lose _you._ Not again.’ The couple stare deep into each others eyes, probably torn between kissing and throwing the other into a locked room and throwing away the key for their safety.

‘What’s going on over there?’ Howard speaks up from his worktable. He’s been fixing up an unknown project all the while they’ve been talking, muttering the odd interjection from time to time.

‘I believe miss Carter and mr Rogers are arguing over who gets to sacrifice themself and who doesn’t,’ Jarvis remarks. He sets the coffee pot delicately down on a cork coaster, even though the bench underneath has been charred thrice over.

‘Oh, don’t worry about that. I’m almost done here, and when I am, you’ll both be able to die for each other.’

‘Uh… what?’ Peter asks, peering over at Stark’s work. ‘Hey, I thought you said you couldn’t fix that without vibranium!’

‘I couldn’t, but then the good man over there-’ Howard gestures to Rhodey without looking up from his soldering- ‘lent me some. From some spare part, right? On the metal attire you future folk are so fond of wearing. And please, tell me that’s not high fashion.’

‘Wait, so we have six suits now?’

‘I thought that was for fixing Steve’s,’ Rhodes says, confused and a little wary. He and Pepper haven’t quite gotten used to Howard’s presence yet, nor to his unnervingly young face. It’s hard not to see the man he’ll become instead of the one he is.

‘No, no that’s the one Mor and I broke when we got here!’ Peter says, ‘Oh my god, that’s great! Six people’s definitely gonna work! But, uh, I still don’t think we should let Tony do it too, in case it, you know, doesn’t work.’

‘Are you saying you’d rather we all die than your father?’ Peggy inquires.

‘He’s… he’s, uh, not...’ he stutters. Of course him and Morgan have been presumed as siblings – they do act the part. But that’s not what lingers on Pepper’s mind.

‘So we could all go.’ Her hand clenches around the fabric of Morgan’s flared dress. She looks just like any other child on the streets of the forties, skipping ropes and clutching vintage teddies. Or, well, they’re not vintage yet, she supposes. ‘But… what if it doesn’t work? Morgan will be stuck here.’

Realisation dawns upon the room in a sharp intake of breath. Eyes glance to the girl on her lap only to look away again. Ms Carter is quick to step down,

‘I’ll stay, then. Take her with you and drop her off at a safe place.’

‘I’m not sure there’s enough Pym particles for that trip,’ Steve laments. ‘We can’t leave her on the battlegrounds, and if we’re to leave her from where you-’ he looks to Pepper and Rhodes- ‘came from… Unless we get some more, I’m not sure how we’d do it.’

‘Will dr Banner let us go back? If we drop Mor off, will we be able to still save Tony?’ Peter looks between the adults, ‘Not that I don’t want her safe, of course I do, just-’

‘If we explained it to him,’ Rhodey starts but Pepper’s hopes are dwindling. ‘Maybe he’d...’

‘What if I built you a panic button?’

Howard leans on the rolled up shirt sleeves that have begun to sag down towards his elbows. A pair of soldering glasses sit on his forehead and there’s a faint outline of soot around his eyes from where he’s gotten too close to the flame.

‘A panic button,’ Rhodes deadpans.

‘Yeah. Into those fancy bracelets you all have. I’m assuming they’ve got some kind of body function measuring system, right? I mean, it is the future. Even Jarvis could fit that into something the size of a watch.’

‘I’m afraid I’m not quite following, sir,’ Jarvis says ever so politely. He’s calmly sipping tea as if they aren’t discussing their own potential deaths-by-infinity-stones.

‘If the energy from the… eternity stones? Whatever, if it all becomes too much, the body function system would sense that and, in a best case scenario, save your asses before they’re permanently fried. It’d send you back here.’ Stark folds his arms with a satisfied grin that says _there, fixed._

‘You can’t just mess with technology you don’t understand,’ Peter speaks up. Pepper’s eyes find his and he turns an immediate scarlet, mumbling, ‘Trust me, I know.’

‘Then you help me,’ Howard responds irritably.

‘No, last time I… it didn’t go well. I could try, but...’

‘Even if we could install a panic button,’ she says, ‘we’d need the Quantum Tunnel.’

Steve hangs his head, muttering something about technological terminology. To be fair to the Captain, not even Stark seems to follow – for once, Pepper’s the expert.

‘Yeah,’ Rhodey says, ‘it’s like the landing strip for a plane, right? We can’t land without one on at least one side of the journey.’

‘I don’t think that’s how planes work,’ Howard says.

‘It’s a metaphor.’

‘Quantum Tunnels are like gateways,’ Pepper offers, ‘Like a door, and without one on either side, we’d be stuck in the quantum realm.’

‘But the kids landed without one though, right?’ Howard says, ‘Got off just fine except for a bit of turbulence.’

‘Oh, so _now_ the metaphor fits.’

‘It was more than turbulence,’ Peter cuts in, ‘but… could we build it?’

‘Theoretically,’ Pepper says, sounding more knowledgable than she feels. She did learn by assembling the pieces for Bruce, she knows what parts are sensitive, which once are vital, which are less so. In her mind’s eye she sees Tony on one of those last, blessed nights before hell came to Earth. Hunched over a hologram with FRIDAY helping in the design of the quantum suits, hanging onto that one, last thread of hope with fingers clutching the photo of him and Peter from so long ago.

Perhaps now it’s her turn.

‘I have a plan.’

* * *

It takes them another full day to get everything together.

‘Jarvis,’ Steve says hurriedly, ‘would you mind telling me where I can find some salt? Howard’s letting Peter make web-fluid and I’ve been sent to retrieve ingredients.’ He frowns at the wrinkled list in his hands. ‘H2O is water, right?’

‘It’s in the second kitchen, through the French doors and to the left. Ana should be somewhere around there, I’m sure she’ll be happy to help you out.’

The basement lab is bustling with energy. Pepper’s directing Peter and Howard as they mixture carefully with the quantum suits. She’s drawn a loose blueprint and marked out the parts she remember, mapping out the rest by copying what’s in front of her, making additional notes when needed. She took Rhodes’ input before he went upstairs with Morgan – even if he’s been present both times the team built the suits, he doesn’t consider himself knowledgable on them. Steve feels much the same. The structure of a portable Quantum Tunnel stands forgotten in one corner, abandoned now in favour of their revised plan.

‘It’s nice to have someone else watching over mr Stark,’ Jarvis says. ‘Each time he ventures down here, I fear he’ll blow up the west coast.’

‘Let’s hope he doesn’t,’ Steve says, watching Stark take to the future inventions. They’re going to have to make him promise not to apply any of it to his own works. They can’t change the past, or all their hard work would be for nothing.

‘Kitchen. Right.’

‘Would you mind bringing down some tea? I think we could all use some.’ Jarvis slouches a bit in his chair. Sweat glistens on his forehead from the afternoon’s heavy lifting before they forsook the Quantum Tunnel. ‘If it’s not too much trouble, of course. I find myself still quite winded.’

‘It’s not a problem.’

Over by the workbench, Pepper wipes her own brow. It’s a rush job, even though they have all the time in the world with a time machine at their hands, but she desperately wants to get it over with. If it’s a futile hope she has, she doesn’t want to hold onto it for too long. And Morgan, she’s beginning to figure out something’s up. Rhodey and Bernard won’t distract her forever.

‘All right, Peter, have Karen run another test.’

Parker’s phone, stripped off its back and some other parts but still functioning, runs its small fan. It’s a lot to ask of a phone to operate seventy years before its invention and charge up on a cable that doesn’t really fit the output, but StarkPhones are made to do the impossible. Tony wouldn’t have had it any other way.

‘Integration successful,’ Karen’s disembodied voice announces. Peter throws his head back.

‘Finally.’

‘How about you take a break, kid?’ Howard says, spinning lazily on his stool, ‘Steve won’t be back with your stuff for a while. I’m sure there’s a couch somewhere upstairs. I remember there being a couch.’

‘Nah, I’m good. I’m good.’ He doesn’t much look it, but he’s got that spark in his eye that won’t let him rest until he’s finished. Pepper recognises it and puts an arm over his shoulders without a second thought. It’s all so very familiar.

‘You know, I’d feel much better if you did. And Morgan’s probably missing you already. You could switch duties with Rhodey.’

‘I can’t.’

She sighs. ‘I know. Me neither.’

‘It’s gonna work, right?’ Peter asks into her side. She can’t see his face, just a mop of brown hair that hasn’t been washed in forever. It sounds like it wasn’t meant to be said out loud, and he adds, quieter this time, ‘I know it’s gonna. It’s gonna work.’

Before Thanos, Tony would work down in his lab for hours, days at a time, and she’d have to drag him out of there to get some food and rest and a much needed shower. Sometimes he’d realise he’d been neglecting her and they’d get reservations at a fancy new restaurant, drink champagne and kiss on the lush terrace afterwards. When Morgan came along, he’d rarely go into the garage any more. The few instances he did, he’d cook them dinner afterwards to make up for lost time.

There’d been an empty chair at the table, meant for when Peter had been supposed to visit them, meant for Rhodes the rare instances he’d be home from Cuba, Denmark or wherever else the world needed him. Pepper doesn’t think she could deal with another empty chair. Not again.

 _God,_ she thinks, even though she’s not much of a believer, _please._ _L_ _et this work._

* * *

‘It’s gonna be over in a few seconds, all right? It’s gonna be over so fast, and it’s going to be so much easier than last time. I promise, okay? And mommy’s gonna be there the whole time, right beside you.’

Morgan nods with big eyes. They’ve tried to explain it as well as they can for her – they’re going to drop her off with Uncle Bruce and Aunt May, two people she’s never met but heard a lot about from Peter. She trusts them as much as she can given the circumstances. Then Mom’s going away, but only for a few seconds. After that everything will be over.

It’s a lot to grasp.

Steve watches their goodbyes with a certain sadness – he’s never been a big part of Morgan Stark’s life before all of this and he only found out about her after the birth. He and Tony weren’t on speaking terms before that. And even though he never knew her then, she feels like a little niece to him and he’d like to think he’s been treating her as such this week that he’s cared for her.

Whatever happens now, whether they fail or succeed, the two of them are going to part ways. He never thought he’d find that as hard as he does.

‘How many times have you done this?’ Peggy asks, examining her mobius strip. It’s loaded for a double round trip. The Panic Button, which isn’t a button at all but more of an integrated system, is set to take a detour to Dr. Pym’s lab in 2023, and then redirect her back to 1947 in the case of an emergency. Then, hopefully, it’ll harmlessly self-destruct before Howard gets his hands on it again. He’s too keen on the future. If he’s being perfectly honest, it’s beginning to alarm Steve.

‘A few,’ he answers modestly. ‘It feels weird at first, but all you need to focus on is following us. Once we’re down there, it’s not too far from diving through a strong current.’

‘I’ve definitely never done that before,’ she says with a wry smile.

‘Maybe once this is all over...’

‘Yes. I’d like that.’

‘Unless… you would prefer it if I went back?’ It comes out smaller than he intended it to, but at least he’s finally worked up the courage to actually ask. Peggy looks at him like he’s sprouted a second head.

‘I think you suffered head trauma back in Jersey, we should really have you looked over by a doctor.’

‘I’m fine,’ he chuckles, relieved. ‘Just an honest question.’

‘Well, I hardly think it’s worth answering. Of course I want you to stay. I… I’ve missed you, very, very much.’

‘Me too. When I was there, in the future...’

‘There was no one else?’ she quirks an eyebrow, ‘For eleven years?’

‘No,’ he smiles, thinking back on everything. There’d been some flirts, even a kiss, but never more. Aside from Sharon-

Sharon. Who is Peggy’s niece. And now, if he is to stay in Peggy’s life, perhaps even marry her – which of course he’d like to do, eventually – _his_ niece. A foul taste fills his mouth and he feels like he ought to scrub it clean with soap. That’s- that’s a problem for another time.

Thankfully, chief Sousa saves him from having to explain the disgusted grimace his face has turned into.

‘Stark called and said you were participating in an experiment? He said he thought I should be here. Everything all right?’ The crutch lands on the last step of the staircase and he limps the few paces over to them.

‘We’re fine as of now, but we might just need your help when it’s all over.’

‘Oh. When will that be?’

‘In about...’ Peggy looks at her wristwatch, right next to the housing unit for her suit, ‘One minute and thirty-eight seconds.’

‘Oh, that’s it?’ Sousa asks, ‘He made it out to be more of an operation of hours.’

‘It will be, for us,’ she smiles cryptically, ‘But not for you.’

‘Okay, everyone!’ Howard shouts, clapping his hands thrice. He’s wearing the round goggles with blackened lenses that make him look the part of a crazed scientist. ‘Can I have my participants line up before me?’

‘Don’t tell me you’re going to time travel,’ the chief says like he can’t believe what he’s asking.

‘Well, there’s a first time for everything,’ Peggy mumbles back. She pushes a few last strands back into a low ponytail. Steve thinks, not for the first time, how that hairstyle compliments her face so perfectly.

Peter Parker gives Morgan one last hug before joining the line-up. He’s managed to close up some of the holes in his new suit as well as preventing it from breaking apart further, so on first glance he’ll look quite alike the Iron Spider. No one will notice the differences once they’re in the heat of battle; he’ll blend in perfectly as long as he doesn’t come face to face with himself.

Rescue and War Machine stand on either side of him, the Colonel making a parting wave to Morgan in her mother’s arms before his helmet slams closed. Pepper finished up on the Panic Button system a mere half hour ago. No one wanted to wait any longer before departing, so here they are.

‘First of all, as soon as you arrive, you’re going to enable a closed communication channel young Pete over there helped us come up with,’ Howard tells them. He paces in front of the line like a general before his soldiers. ‘It will let you talk to each other whilst not risking that your conversation leaks out into the rest of the world. Ergo, no one will know you’re not supposed to be there. It reaches a hundred yards, so you have to stick together. That was all we could do in such a short amount of time. We’ll be here to help you out once you return, alive and well.’

The last thing sounds unusually much like a threat for Howard, and is especially directed at Steve and Peggy. Peter just nods like they’re in class getting prepped for the SATs.

‘Okay, I think that’s it for me. Captain, take it away.’

‘We’re all going to play the parts of our past selves,’ Steve straightens up, taking the role of the leader. ‘Except for Peggy, who wasn’t there at all. Peggy, you’ll be a sorceress of the Kamar-Taj. There were thousands of them present, one more shouldn’t make a difference.’

‘If it helps, I think the costume suits you,’ Howard says. Carter rolls her eyes. She’s put together an elaborate outfit out of things they found in Stark’s chaotic storage, including a forest green vest and navy pants wide enough to be a skirt. The vest’s criss-crossing front really does makes her look the part of a sorceress.

‘It is quite comfortable. The trousers are my favourite part.’

‘If someone talks to you, just nod like you understand,’ Steve tells her. ‘If they know you’re an imposter they might mistake you for the enemy. The last thing we need is for someone to get hurt.’

‘Take care,’ Sousa says from behind them. Edwin Jarvis stands to the side with Ana. He nods to Morgan, curled up against Rescue’s breastplate as comfortably as possible given the metal. She waves back.

‘I won’t have to do any spells, will I? Should we bring a wand or something?’

‘I don’t think anyone will have the time to realise you’re not actually fighting,’ Rhodey remarks.

‘Spells,’ Chief Sousa echoes blankly.

‘Okay,’ Steve continues, ‘So, once we’re there, blend in with the crowd. You may have to fight. Not everything that’s inhuman is our enemy, though, so only attack in defence,’ he turns to Peggy. ‘Some of our allies aren’t from Earth.’

‘Aliens,’ Sousa shakes his head in denial, ‘of course there’s aliens.’

‘Life was so much easier before all of this,’ Peggy quips, though she doesn’t look much like she regrets any of it.

‘We stick close together. Pepper will go to another point in time first to drop off Morgan, but if all goes well she’ll arrive at the same moment we do. We’ll arrive by an orange van. From thereon we have to get to where we know Tony will go up against Thanos and steal the stones before either of them can use them. We’ve identified a moment where everyone will be looking at him and the stones will be elsewhere – this is where we go in.

‘Once we have the stones, we’ll have to work quick. We absorb one or two each into our suits, hold hands and snap together. There are two goals here – erase Thanos’ army, and make it seem like Tony snaps and then dies afterwards. And we have to make sure no one sees us. Any questions?’

‘You’re really going to hold hands to save this guy’s life?’ Howard asks incredulously. ‘I wish I could see that.’

‘I think we’re all set,’ Pepper says. Rhodey nods,

‘Crystal clear.’

‘M’kay,’ Morgan adds, sucking anxiously on her thumb.

‘Then I suppose there’s nothing left to do but go. Just remember to have each others’ backs. We get through this together.’

‘Together,’ Peter repeats. At least he doesn’t seem prone to running off to do his own thing again. Perhaps young, stubborn dogs can learn to sit.

‘Time set to 11:38 AM on August 20th, 2023,’ Rhodey reads from his wristband. ‘Location, Woodford, Vermont, United States, Earth. Everyone got the same?’

‘Yup,’ Peter confirms while everyone else nod. ‘Ready?’

‘Ready,’ Pepper says. The quantum suit materialises over the Rescue armour and it strikes Steve how fitting that name is for what they’re attempting. He gets ready to push the button that will take him back to the beginning of the end, adrenaline already coursing through his veins. This is it. This is where they either fix things or screw them up even more.

A miniature version of the suit envelopes Morgan’s small form and she sits, rigid, in her mother’s arms. Hopefully the journey back won’t be too traumatising for her. Children heal much faster than adults.

‘On a count of three,’ Steve says. ‘One-’

‘I don’t wanna,’ Morgan says.

‘I’m so sorry honey,’ Pepper place a hand on the back of her head, ‘but you have to. Mommy’s here.’

‘-two-’

‘Oh lord,’ Ana Jarvis says, reaching for her husband’s hand. Chief Sousa is paling beside them. Howard opens his mouth, almost like he’s changed his mind about the whole operation, but it’s too late now.

‘-three.’

And with the simple press of a button, they’re gone.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> (if some of the sciency parts of this is confusing to you, sorry! i've tried my best haha :p)
> 
> next time - the actual mission you've all been waiting for starts! but will everything go as planned? join me thursday, on the last day of the train-wreck that's been 2020, to find out! :D


	18. Chapter 18

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> a bit of an early update but I thought you deserved it :) don't check the updated tags if you don't want to be spoiled!

_August 20 th, 2023_

There’s an incredible noise surrounding them. Venturing down into the quantum realm is in no way as traumatic as the first time but it still takes Peter a few moments after they’ve landed to figure out what’s up and what’s down, who’s screaming, why the world seems to spin. His greatest strength, the spider-sense, is now holding him back with persistent shouts of _danger, danger, everywhere, get out!_

Pepper lays a hand on his shoulder but he can’t hear what she’s saying. There’s only blasts and battle cries and sounds of people dying. He fumbles with a manual pad on his web-shooter until the communication channel goes online, the suit fazing out all other sounds.

‘-eter? You okay, kid?’

‘Yeah, yeah, I’m fine. Just gotta catch my breath.’

‘We can’t stay here,’ Rhodey says. On the small hologram above Peter’s wrist, two more signals connect to their enclosed channel. Steve and miss Peggy are catching their breaths a few steps away.

‘Lord,’ Peggy pants. ‘That was… something.’

An explosion shakes the ground. What once could have been a leg, a rifle or some kind of alien technology thumps down next to War Machine. Peter desperately hopes it’s oil that’s dripping out of it and not blood.

There’s no sign of Morgan, thank god. Pepper hasn’t said anything about it, so he supposes everything must’ve gone well in dropping her off at Pym’s lab a month from now. The girl would never be able to sleep again if she saw any of this.

‘We can’t stand around here,’ Steve reminds them, ‘We’ve got to stay hidden. Don’t run into your past selves.’

The van behind them is online, the quantum tunnel powering down – it’s been switched on by someone on this side of the journey. The front doors open and Peter catches a glimpse of what must be Ant-man and his other bug friend before Pepper grabs his shoulder.

Right. They mustn’t be seen, they mustn’t change the past.

He shoots a web to the roof of the van, launching himself into a front flip over its ugly, orange roof. It takes him to the hill of debris that the front of the car’s pretty much stuck in and he jumps again, down the other side, seeking cover.

‘Did you guys make it?’ he asks into the coms. Around him aliens, evil ones, are screaming as they charge into battle, heading for the front lines. He does _not_ want to draw their attention, and time’s of the essence in their mission. They’ve got to get going.

‘We’re clear,’ Rhodey confirms. The Spider-suit’s hologram places him twenty feet Northwest next to Steve.

‘Thanks for the lift.’

‘No problem, Captain. How long ‘til the snap?’

‘I’d guess five minutes,’ Pepper says, landing with Peggy in her arms next to the teen. ‘Carol will be heading towards the van with the stones now, so it’s only a matter of time until it blows. We gotta get out of here.’

Peter’s mind is racing. He’s having trouble remembering what’s going to happen next – it’s not something he’s been thinking about too hard in the month that has gone, he couldn’t bear to relive it even in his head. Now he’s on the battlefield again, and it’s so close now, Thanos is close and Tony closer still to making his final sacrifice. There’s no guarantee that they’ll fix anything.

Five minutes to make or break the world. It’s far too long and much too short at the same time, and his spider-sense keeps screaming at him to get out, to _run._

‘Peter?’ Peggy asks. Her hair’s starting to escape the tight ponytail and she’s looking more than a bit alarmed. It must be a terrible future to end up in, even if she won’t live to experience it again.

‘Uh- yeah, yes m´am?’

‘We need to move,’ she says, surprisingly gentle but stern at the same time. ‘Do you think you can do that for me?’

‘Yeah- yeah, of course I can. Of course.’ He works the tremble out of his voice, thankful for the mask he’s still wearing. There’s tears prickling at the corners of his eyes.

‘It’s this way,’ Pepper says, and grabs onto miss Peggy again. He shoots a web to her leg and lets himself be whisked away by the momentum, trailing behind as they rise over the battle field.

 _You can do it._ His heart beats at a million miles an hour. _You can do this. Whatever it takes._ He doesn’t think Pepper would agree with the sentiment, not when _whatever it takes_ might mean screwing up the past, so he doesn’t say it out loud.

Colonel Rhodes soars beside them, carrying Steve like an eagle would its prey. The van blows up and the Rescue suit dips down behind the body of a large space whale, landing solemnly before setting Peggy down; it’s close, so close now.

‘I’d say less than three minutes,’ Rhodey says hurriedly. Lightning gathers on the other side of the monstrous carcass – Thor. Peter doesn’t remember this, he’s not sure when it all happens. His hands clench, adrenaline pumping into every fibre of his being. Three minutes.

‘After Thanos uses the power stone against Carol,’ Steve says, ‘Tony’s going to attack him and steal the stones. There’s a moment when we’re all watching Thanos, waiting for him to snap. I don’t think anyone noticed Tony then. We weren’t looking.’

‘So that’s when we go in,’ Peggy says, breathing hard. At least Peter’s not the only overwhelmed person on their team.

‘We can’t rush in, all of us. There’s so many people here – how can we be sure?’ Pepper’s voice is strained too. Specks of dirt lie like snowflakes over her armour and there’s a splatter of crimson and blue-green towards her feet. It reeks and burns up his nostrils. ‘We’ll be noticed as a group, so one of us has to take the stones from Tony and distribute them to the others. Then we snap. And- and we gotta tell him… we tell him we’ll help him do it. Otherwise he won’t let us- he won’t let anyone take his place.’

‘How do we know when to go in? Is there going to be a sign, something…?’

‘The Power stone,’ Rhodey says, ‘it glows purple when it’s used.’

‘Purple,’ Peggy echoes, nodding wildly. A one on one battle breaks out six feet to her right, two aliens shooting at each other. One of them blasts the other’s arm off at the same time as they take a hit to the head. Both fall lifeless to the ground. ‘When we’re done, I suggest we get the hell out of here.’

‘We’ll give Tony this,’ Pepper holds up their spare mobius strip. It was Morgan’s before she was dropped off a month in the future. ‘If it doesn’t work, we’ll have to get it off- off his… off him. Before someone notices.’

‘I’ll do it, if it comes to that,’ Steve offers.

‘No,’ Rhodey says heavily. ‘I will. I want to. If- Pepper, if you don’t?’

‘I don’t think I could.’

The lightning dies down and a body hits the ground – Thor has been defeated. After him and Steve, it was… Carol, and then Tony. The sudden, vivid image of it fills Peter’s brain and he can’t get it out. Details, memories. A fog that’s been clouding his brain parts and he watches it replay in his mind; the snap, the unseeing, glassy eyes, the funeral- and no, that’s not happening, not again. He’s not coming back if it isn’t with Tony by his side.

Whatever happens, he’ll find a way. Whatever it takes.

‘I’ll collect the stones.’

The adults turn to Peter and he tries to stand taller, to stop shaking. ‘I’m quick on my feet and I sense danger, so I won’t let anyone see me. And- and I could shoot a web to you guys, and if the stones paralyse me or something when I touch them, you can just, like- pull me back here.’

‘Peter,’ Rhodes says, much like a warning.

‘No,’ Pepper starts, ‘it’s far too dangerous.’

‘I’m afraid I’ll have to agree with them,’ Peggy says, wincing as a battle cry comes from the other side of the space whale.

‘There’s no time. I’m fast, and I’ll know if I’m seen, so I can hide if I have to!’

A purple pulse of raw power nearly knocks them sideways. It makes the carcass shift, almost lay down on its side. This is it. Tony’s turn.

Steve looks Peter in the eyes. A tense moment passes where the soldier decides whatever it is he’s questioning, but then there’s a shift in his gaze and he nods resolutely.

‘It’s the only way. You’re the best one for the job.’

‘Thank you,’ Peter breathes. ‘I’ll- I’m doing it. Pull my web when I have the stones, okay?’

‘Kid!’ Pepper starts, but he doesn’t stay to hear the rest of it. In fact, as he snatches the wristband out of her hands and climbs the alien body, he mutes their channel completely. Once he’s at the top he can see it – Thanos, about to put the Power stone back into its gauntlet, and Tony, a mere few feet away. The latter looks to Strange, then stands up.

The kid can’t breathe. Tony – _alive, oh my god he’s alive_ – runs at Thanos, desperate, determined. While no one’s watching he grabs the stones before Thanos pushes him away again, oblivious to the theft.

Peter launches himself off his vantage point.

He wondered, when they got here, if Cap knew. Steve has been varying degrees of suspicious ever since Parker ran away from the SSR, but he wasn’t watching them work on the suits, not all the time. Pepper was there though so she might know, but if she did, she’d probably have made Peter stay behind, so on second thought she doesn’t. She would’ve chased him over the space whale if she had. She wouldn’t have let him go.

He lands next to Tony, whose suit hasn’t finished integrating the stones yet. Mr Stark doesn’t notice him, not right away, but when he does, he turns panicked, sad – like they’re saying goodbye.

‘Get out of here, kid,’ he says, jaw clenched in pain. The teen can’t believe he’s hearing it, can’t believe Tony’s alive. ‘There’s gonna be a discharge-’

Peter raises his fist with all the rage, grief and sorrow of these last few weeks, and aims for his mentor’s face. He hurries, grabs a hold of the nano-suit's right arm as Tony crumbles to the ground, forces the mobius strip onto it. Tears the stones away. His own, Iron-spider suit laps them up, parts its gleaming metal and makes six cavities on the back of his right hand, one for each stone. He can’t even feel anything at first, not until they’ve finished settling in. That’s when the pain starts.

Thanos’ voice rings out somewhere behind him. ‘I… am… _inevitable._ ’

It burns up his arm. The power, energy, it rips through flesh and bone and travels up his veins, into his chest, steals his breath away. How Tony ever managed to speak, Peter can’t for the life of him figure out. He can barely sit up straight, one hand splayed across the dirt as he tries not to collapse. Farther off than even Thanos, there’s a voice. Pepper. She must know by now, she must know because there’s no web to pull him back with and his coms are off.

When they were still at the worktable in Howard Stark’s basement and no one was looking, Peter cut the wires connecting his Panic Button system to the quantum suit. It could malfunction and bring him back prematurely, screw up their chance at saving Tony. Given that he’s doing this alone, that would mean screwing up the past completely. They’d probably all vanish or something, their whole timeline. He can’t have Morgan disappear, or May, or Tony and Pepper for that matter. Ned, MJ, Steve and miss Peggy. They all deserve to live long, happy lives.

No one’s going to get hurt. No one but him. _Whatever it takes._

‘D- don’t!’

Peter closes his eyes to block out the pain – it doesn’t help, and he’s pretty sure he’s screaming now, so he focuses, prepares himself for the snap. _Wipe out Thanos, make it look like Tony did it. Get rid of my body if I die._ His fingers twitch.

‘Don’t- you _dare!_ ’

A hand lays itself over his knuckles; there’s a tug, a terrible one that rips away the pain like barbed wire going through his arm, making ragged cuts through his very bones. The stones fall to the ground.

‘Don’t,’ Tony pants, blood running down his face. ‘Peter- don’t you _dare._ ’

Time seems to stop. He didn’t really meet Stark’s eyes before, he couldn’t, but there’s no escaping it now. He’s fallen back to the ground and Tony’s kneeling over him, a shocked kind of fear on his face like they’re on Titan again. He stares his prodigy down like a raging bull, like he can’t believe his eyes, what he almost lost again. Peter stares back. _Oh my god, you’re alive._

As the pain retreats, he becomes numbly aware that it’s been too long. They’re already supposed to have done it, the snap, but nothing’s happened. Over mr Stark’s shoulder, he sees Doctor Strange in the distance. Horrified.

Then the surroundings warp, change, people walking backwards, falling upwards, until they aren’t any more. Thanos is standing, triumphant, hand held high.

‘I… am… _inevitable._ ’

‘Shit,’ Peter says. The word drags up his throat like bile.

‘He just said that,’ Tony blinks as the titan’s expression turns distressed, looking their way. People start walking backwards again, falling upwards, and Thanos raises his hand to snap.

‘Time-loop,’ Peter says. The Ancient One’s words rise to the surface of his murky memory – _You’re on a dangerous quest. Changing the past – your own past – has consequences._ ‘We’ve gotten stuck in a time-loop. Oh god, I changed it. I changed the past.’

The scene resets around them. A figure shoots up from behind the whale’s carcass, gleaming blue and gold. Pepper tries to reach them, one hand out-stretched.

‘ _Peter!_ ’ she screams.

Like May’s old VHS tapes, time rewinds around them, and just like that she’s gone.

Tony gapes at him.

‘What have you _done?_ ’

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> next year (aka sunday) I'm finally giving you some Tony & Peter content :) they have lots to discuss!


	19. Chapter 19

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> happy new year!

_August_ _20_ _th_ _, 2023._ _11:46:34-_ _11:46:53 AM_

‘What were you even thinking?!’

Tony’s up on his feet, pacing the eye of the storm. It’s a circle about ten feet in diameter that no one enters during the loop, an invisible line that they don’t dare to cross. The stones are at the centre of it and Peter hasn’t moved closer to them. He’s sitting to the side, five feet away, watching Pepper fly closer again.

She screams his name. Then she’s gone.

‘You died,’ he says, choking on the words. ‘I had to change it- _we_ had to.’

Tony makes a brief stop, watching Thanos’ grin dim into defeat. ‘Did I save us?’ he asks. ‘Did it work?’

‘Yes.’

‘Then there’s nothing to change. Everything is as it should be.’

‘How can you say that?’ Peter shoots up from the ground, ignoring the way his arm burns in pain. ‘Didn’t you hear me? You died!’

‘It had to be done-’

‘It didn’t have to be you!’

Tony takes a few, intimidating steps towards him. ‘And you dying would be so much better, would it? Huh? What about May, what about your guy in the chair? You’re sixteen!’

‘What about Morgan?’ Peter returns with an equal amount of fire. The man smiles bitterly,

‘I’m doing this for her. Why am I even arguing with you? I’m the adult here – when you grow up, have a few kids of your own, you’ll understand, but until then, _I’m_ in charge.’ He takes a few sobering breaths. Raises a hand, lays it on the teen’s shoulder. Prepares to deliver the harsh truth.

‘Stop,’ Peter shakes it off, stepping back, ‘Stop acting like you understand – it’s been a month for me. I- I went to your _funeral._ ’

Repulsors hit the air, taking off at maximum speed. They’re close enough that they ruffle his hair. _Peter!_ Pepper screams, like it’ll make any difference. She reaches out. The loop resets.

Tony watches it happen with sharp eyes. ‘She’s got a quantum suit too,’ he realises, noticing the small band on her wrist.

‘She came with me. She, Rhodey, Steve and Peggy, they all came here to rescue you.’

‘Peggy Carter? Kid, you’re-’ he shakes his head, ‘Pepper would never support this. She wouldn’t let you take my place.’

‘And how would you know?’

‘God,’ Stark sighs exasperatedly, ‘it’s been a month, not a decade! Don’t lie to me. I thought we were past that.’

Maybe it’s the tone of disappointment in his voice, maybe it’s the way he’s slowly inching towards the stones. Peter didn’t realise before, but the distance between his mentor and the man’s death is slowly decreasing in careful, deceiving steps. It’s only a matter of time before Tony will make a run for it. It makes something tear inside of him.

‘Step back!’ Parker screams, jumping forward, ‘or-’

‘What, you’ll deck me again?’

A haggard fear seizes up his chest, making it hard to breathe. ‘I won’t let you die, you hear me?! Not again.’

‘And neither will I!’ Tony shouts. His nostrils flare. ‘It took me five years to get you back, kid. Who do you think I did all this for? The world, the greater good? That’s not what tipped me over the edge. I didn’t want to mess with time, not until I realised I could save you. _You,_ Peter Parker.’ He takes a step forward and Peter mirrors it. The stones lie an even four paces from the both of them – it’s anyone’s game. ‘And I’m sure as hell not letting you screw it all up by having you die on me again.’

‘I won’t let you do it.’

Three steps. ‘Well _tough luck._ We don’t always get what we want. Life doesn’t work that way.’

Someone screams in the distance. The surroundings are loud and distracting but they’re inevitably the same. The more times they’re replayed the easier it becomes to mute them out – it starts with Thanos’ words, attempting to snap, and ends when Strange realises someone’s tampered with time. Everything in-between is predictable. Unimportant. Worth dying for.

‘What was your plan, even? ‘Cause I’m still not buying that Pepper’s in on this.’

‘She is,’ the teen argues, ‘Just… not this part.’

‘God,’ Tony mumbles, scrubbing a hand over his face. He wavers forward like he’s going to take another step, but decides against it when Peter does the same. ‘Let’s… calm down. Sit.’

‘What?’

‘You heard me, Parker. Sit.’ His tone goes down into authoritative territory, a flash of pure anger following suit. ‘ _Now._ ’

Peter, stunned by the pointing finger, the dad-glare, sits numbly on the ground like he’s been sent to his room. The part of his mind that still remembers his own parents before they died recalls a similar memory. A flower pot on the floor, smashed to pieces next to the softball he got for Christmas. Tony huffs out a tired, frustrated breath, and let’s his knees fold as well. The stones lie between them like a strangely colourful campfire, close enough to be within reach if either of them were to take the leap. Glowing, tempting. Trying to coax out a rash decision.

‘Before we do anything else, you’re going to tell me what the hell this is all about,’ Stark says. His upper lip is swelling and a bit of blood’s still trickling down onto his chin.

‘I was going to save you.’

‘By killing yourself.’

‘I didn’t-’

‘Nuh uh, no buts. Tell me. Now.’

Peter hangs his head, taking a moment to think it all through. There must be some way of ending the loop – he can still do it, the snap, he can still save them. The time stone should be able to break the cycle, right? And then everything will be back to normal.

Tony watches him like a hawk, twitching at every hint of movement. He must’ve figured it out too. There’s no point in lying.

‘I was fixing a quantum suit,’ the kid starts, shoulders dropping, and continues with the rest of the story. Morgan, Steve, 1947. It feels like a scolding, like he’s confessing to breaking an unnecessary expensive vase when no one was looking. _It wasn’t my fault,_ he thinks whilst talking. _I wouldn’t have had to if you hadn’t gone and died._

‘Kid,’ Stark sighs when it’s all over. He’s slumped over, propped up on elbows resting on one of his knees.

‘It’s not that different to what you did,’ Peter bites back. Tony doesn’t take the bate.

‘Maybe it isn’t,’ he allows, ‘but did you really think I wouldn’t stop you?’

‘I’m strong. I- I should’ve knocked you out. I was trying to…’ the teen’s ears heat up in embarrassment. _I punched him._ Deliberately, no less.

‘Didn’t work, though. Not enough force behind it.’

‘I couldn’t.’

‘I know.’ Tony scratches his chin, looks to where Pepper will soon emerge from behind the space whale. ‘As much as I’m against the whole we’ll-sacrifice-ourselves-for-you scenario, the five of you together makes much more sense than you alone. It’s not a sound argument, would never get approved for a doctorate, but it’s not the worst. Why risk it? Why go against the plan?’

‘There’s a chance it might not work.’

‘And there’s a damned _large_ _r_ chance you would’ve died.’

The ground vibrates as the loop resets. The Earth’s pulled back on its course around the sun, and it feels decidedly wrong to have it travel in the opposite direction even if Peter’s never remarked on its spinning before. He’s got enhanced senses but even they aren’t that good. Not enough to pick up on something he’s taken for granted ever since he was born.

‘I’m sorry,’ he says at last. It comes out as shaky as the world around them. ‘I just couldn’t let you die.’

‘I know. God, what a mess.’ Tony grunts whilst standing, stretching his back enough that the nano-suit starts creaking. ‘All right then, come on. Stand up.’

Peter blinks, confused. ‘What?’

‘Neither of us are going to give in, are we? I’m not, and you’re as stubborn as ever. And if we don’t do anything, we’re gonna be stuck here ‘til you’re old and grey and I’m one of those skeletons they find in spooky caverns in movies. The _beware, this is what happened to_ _the ones_ _who_ _came_ _before you_ kind. I’m not letting my legacy become a futile warning some idiot kids are bound to ignore.’

‘I don’t understand,’ he says, standing up to the best of his ability. His right arm throbs angrily, his head’s a stuffy mess. Confessing has taken the energy right out of him.

‘Of course you don’t, I haven’t explained it to you. Shut your mouth and listen.’ Tony drags in a slow breath, and continues like he can’t believe his own words, ‘I’m going to allow you to help me do this. There’s one catch – no tricks, no sucker punches. Got it?’

‘Y-yeah,’ Peter manages to get out. ‘Got it.’

‘We’re doing it together or not at all. It’s some shitty odds but it’s all we can get, considering. Six people might’ve worked, but there’s just you and me now. Are you in or are you out?’

There’s a vague hope in his mentor’s eyes, that maybe, just maybe the kid will give in. It’s a strained wish, one they both know isn’t grounded in any sort of reality.

‘In,’ Parker swallows.

‘Move together.’ Tony takes one step forward, watching to see if the action is mirrored. Another one brings them face to face, like after Strange opened the portals and they met in the midst of battle and shared a fleeting embrace. ‘Down.’

Peter’s knees pop as they crouch before the stones, hands hovering. Time, power and soul lie closest to him, space, reality and mind more towards his counterpart. The adrenaline starts to flow again.

‘Take my hand,’ the man offers. ‘On the count of three, yeah? On three we grab them, erase Thanos’s army, stop the loop and make it look like it’s only me who did it. That’s the plan, right?’

‘Yeah, that’s what we planned to do. That’s how we planned it.’ Peter’s fingers twitch in Tony’s grip, tightening their hold. ‘Your quantum suit should be set on a month from now.’

Tony glances down to his wrist, letting out a surprised huff. ‘You really thought of everything, didn’t you?’

‘I had a lot of time.’

‘So we go back together once it’s over,’ he nods along, ‘Leave the stones here, right? Everything will turn out the way it should’ve been.’

‘We programmed the suits,’ Peter says, unable to take his eyes off the stones. ‘We made it so they’ll release the stones before time travel. If the circuits aren’t fried, after, they should just… slide off. Stay here, in the past. One less thing to worry about.’

‘Kid,’ Tony says, his voice rough. ‘Look at me.’

Peter does. The hand holding his rearranges its grip, closing around his palm and wrist, encasing them protectively. If it had been his other arm, he’d be scared Tony was reprogramming his suit, sending him back prematurely. It doesn’t seem to be guided by any ulterior motive, though. It’s just…

‘I’ve never told you this, but I thought I might now. Considering, you know.’ Stark makes a vague gesture that could mean anything and nothing at all. ‘There wasn’t any time on Titan.’

‘Okay.’

‘Well, I… Okay, here it goes. You know how I kept putting off inviting you to the wedding? Before everything.’

‘Uh… yeah,’ Peter says, feeling a little lost. It doesn’t seem like an appropriate conversation to have on the brink of what hopefully won’t be a very painful death.

‘And then Happy did it for me, and you thought it meant I didn’t want you there.’

‘We’re not that close.’ They’re hollow words but Tony snorts like it’s an insult.

‘Yeah, I think I was scared you were gonna say that. But we are. We are,’ he repeats, firmer the second time, ‘and the reason I kept putting it off’s because I didn’t want you as a guest.’

‘Oh,’ the kid’s heart plummets.

‘No, I’m not- I didn’t want you as a guest, because I wanted you in the wedding.’

Now he’s confused again. Tony’s looking for a reaction, anything, but Peter’s still turning the words over in his head. _In the wedding…_ Isn’t that how adults talk when-

‘You mean, as a- as a grooms-man?’

‘I was thinking ring bearer, but yeah. Yeah.’

‘Oh. Oh, wow, that’s- I mean, I’d love to! I _would’ve_ loved to,’ he hurriedly corrects himself, ‘I mean, ‘cause you’re already married now, but I would’ve been honoured, really. Wow. I thought Pepper’s niece was going to do that.’

‘She wanted to be a flower girl,’ Tony says, like he didn’t have a choice in the matter, like he’d really let a five year old who isn’t Morgan dictate his own wedding day. ‘The only other kid I knew was you, so. Besides, I wanted you there.’

Peter braves a smile, blinking tears out of his eyes. ‘Um. Thanks, for telling me.’

‘Just thought you should know,’ Tony says. He coughs around something in his throat and sniffs, squeezing the kid’s hand one more time. ‘Right, then. Count of three.’

Peter lets go for a moment, readjusting his mobius strip and stopping the countdown just before it hits zero. ‘Didn’t know you’d programmed a delayed departure function,’ he says, swallowing down the misplaced betrayal. ‘Count of three.’

Stark’s face falls. ‘Damn you.’

‘One,’ the teen starts, because one of them has to. They can’t sit here forever.

‘Two.’

‘Thr-’

They both lunge for the stones at the same time, nails digging into the others armour as the infinity stones burn into their suits. It sears through Peter’s bones again. It drags through him like a knife, splitting every single nerve in agonizing detail.

‘Now! Kid, it’s- it’s time!’

The Earth rushes backwards beneath them as the loop resets, hopefully for the last time. Somewhere in the background, Thanos grins in triumph, and Pepper desperately tries to save him.

‘ _Peter!_ ’

He looks up, just about making out the silhouette of his mentor through a blur of tears. Tony’s hand is raised, palm outward. He’s bent over like an old man with a broken back.

‘Now,’ he says, and snaps.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ...did i mention i like cliffhangers?


	20. Chapter 20

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> soooo... i guess what you're all really thinking is - what's howard up to? :)))))
> 
> (pls don't kill me for stalling haha ,:))

_May 26 th, 1947_

‘Oh, for heaven’s sake!’

Edwin Jarvis dumps the tray of neatly arranged tea and biscuits harshly onto the table, sending a slosh of Earl Grey flying onto the back of Howard’s hand. It’s the perfect middle-hot temperature below scalding and a tad above lukewarm. Still Stark flinches like it burns him.

‘Hey, watch out! I’m working here.’

‘That project was supposed to be destroyed,’ Jarvis says heatedly, eyeing the piece his boss is currently perfecting. ‘We promised!’

‘What they don’t know can’t hurt them.’

‘I’m quite sure, in this case, it actually can.’

‘Eh,’ Howard says, and takes a hammer to the metal. The resounding clang makes his butler bristle, face scrunched up in a disapproving frown. It also flattens down a rather annoying bump. The engineer grins, pleased, and turns to reintegrate the piece into his latest invention.

Well, invention’s a strong word. Though it’s new to the forties, it already exists in the future, and it’s those plans he’s building it from.

The frame isn’t his work. Pepper constructed it before they abandoned the idea of a Quantum Tunnel in the forties, but it’s been decked out with shiny new parts. She left her notes and a rough sketch, and Howard Stark, being quite the genius, found himself with plenty enough information to build on her ideas. While Jarvis is right in that they had, technically, promised to burn those notes – who can blame him? The promise of time travel, of a world much more technologically advanced that just might be able to keep up with Howard’s quick mind, it’s too tempting. And the plans were sitting there, right in front of him. How could he not at least try to complete the build?

‘Mr Stark, if I may-’

‘You don’t,’ he says, securing the now fully finished panel on the floor of the portable Tunnel.

‘But, sir, Mr Rogers clearly stated that messing with time-’

‘And what does he know, Jarvis?’ Howard whirls around, the hammer raised in his hand. He’d never threaten Edwin but recent events have exhausted him. He’s at the end of his rope, quite frankly, and hasn’t slept more than three hours in two days. The hammer stays where it is. ‘What exactly does he know about preventing screw ups in time travel?’

‘I’m sorry sir,’ Jarvis says, unflinching. ‘Shouting at me won’t bring them back.’

‘Fixing this muck will,’ Stark mutters, turning back to the Tunnel. He mutes out anything else the butler might wish to say, setting the hammer to work.

It’s been exactly fifty-one hours, forty-three minutes and thirteen seconds since Peggy and Steve accompanied the others to the future with a promise to return five seconds later. It’s been fifty-one hours, forty-three minutes and seven seconds since Howard started panicking. He hasn’t stopped since.

‘Perhaps they put the incorrect date in,’ Jarvis offers. ‘Perhaps they’ll return right on time, only in the next month. Or… the next year, I suppose.’

‘Or three decades,’ Howard says without looking up from his work. ‘I’m not leaving it up to chance. If they’ll want another shot at ending up back here again, they’ll be needing a landing strip, otherwise they’re stuck wherever they’ve ended up. Might be in the 1800s right now for all we know. Can you imagine Peggy in the 1800s?’

‘No, I don’t believe I can.’

‘Exactly. She’ll be miserable. I’m not leaving my best girl to live out her days before the invention of the female pant suit.’

Jarvis picks up one of the teacups. Its delicate sides are decorated with hand-painted roses and dainty swipes of green in the place of leaves. The tea’s still steaming lazily, but stops as soon as milk is added.

‘Or,’ Edwin says after a placating sip, ‘something might have… gone wrong.’

Howard drops the hammer. ‘Don’t. Don’t even finish that thought.’

‘We have to accept that there is a possibility-’

‘You don’t think I’ve thought about that? I have, but it’s not true, Jarvis, it can’t be! They’re not dead. They’re lost. I’m building them the way home.’

He doesn’t turn to see how that statement’s received. If he so much as begins to consider the possibility, he’ll go insane. The sound of a quivering cup placed back on its plate speaks volumes, though.

‘What if-’ Jarvis starts, but cuts himself off before he can get any further. ‘No. No, you’re right. They’re stuck somewhere. We need to bring them home.’

Howard turns, smiling like that’ll make it true. ‘There’s my Jarvis. Pass me the wrench.’

Edwin Jarvis is an excellent cook, tea-brewer and driver. He’s also a good helping hand. Often when Stark is stuck with a deadline looming overhead, he’ll call on Jarvis and the work will go twice as fast – the butler might not have any formal education in physics or engineering, but by now he has quite the experience working with both. There are a few calluses on his hands where they’ve gotten used to handling rough materials, and a scar on his wrist where a soldering iron once burned through. It’s nothing against Howard’s collection but it’s more than the average servant’s.

‘Sir, if I may – when we’re done, what then?’

‘Well,’ Stark says, wiping his brow. They’re on the last part, a small circuit board. ‘We turn it on.’

‘Yes, but what then? What if nothing happens? They’ll be set on coming back three days ago, not now, so they’ll be aiming for the wrong date!’

‘If they’re really in trouble they’ll try honing in on whatever signal they can find,’ Howard says, connecting some wires to the board. ‘We’ll make sure ours is the loudest.’

‘Can the suits really do that?’

‘The tech’s brilliant, it’s complex yet self-explanatory. If I could shake the inventor’s hand, I’d hug him.’ After the wires, the circuit's inserted into a control board and carefully screwed in place. ‘If a five year old can figure out how to activate it, so can Peg and Steve.’

‘I hope you’re right,’ Jarvis says, looking a bit pale. Howard claps him on the shoulder as he walks past.

‘Don’t worry, they’ll be back here in no time.’

And yet there’s a lump in his own throat that says otherwise. But Howard Stark is a man of science, and he knows a theory can’t be disproved without an experiment, so he walks onwards, up to the power switch, and flicks it on.

The Tunnel practically hums as electricity enters its systems. There’s a heap of wires like a river, curled around the platform before it separates into five sections going up the structural arches. The control panel, which sits on one of the curved beams, flickers to light. There’s no fancy holographic screen, but there’s buttons and plenty of levers and that’s enough to serve the most vital functions.

It’s a beauty, especially for a three day’s frantic build.

Jarvis steps back, half in awe, half in terror. ‘Oh Lord.’

‘Any moment now,’ Howard says, eyes glistening with what he tells himself is optimistic hope. He doesn’t dare admit that part of him wants to give up. It wouldn’t be fair to Steve, or to Peggy. He won’t lose them. Not again.

A fan starts to work in the machine to combat the overheating processor. The lights overhead dim as power surges into the greedy Tunnel. Jarvis takes another step back.

‘Oh Lord,’ he rambles, ‘This isn’t good, this isn’t-’

There’s a blinding light, a small explosion, sparks filling the air. Edwin fumbles for a fire-extinguisher. It takes a few moments, but then the Quantum Tunnel’s powering down, giving up, and the lights turn back on. Below the arch, on the glowing platform, are two figures. One’s standing, the other lies lifeless on the floor.

It’s not Steve and Peggy, but Howard recognises both. He staggers back, knees buckling to bring him down into a conveniently placed chair. Jarvis's doing no doubt.

‘I’ll be damned.’

* * *

_October, 2023_

It’s over too fast. Isn’t dying supposed to be slower? Isn’t there supposed to be a flash of memories, a moment of eternity before that final breath in which you contemplate your life? This doesn’t feel much like dying, especially since it still _feels_ like something. He doesn’t believe in an afterlife. Ashes to ashes, atoms to atoms. There’s no such thing as a soul. Once you’re dead, that’s it, game over – and yet, he still _feels._

There’s a cold floor beneath him. The world’s bright now, not a gloomy battlefield. He holds his eyes firmly shut against it, wincing at the way his split lip is pressed against the ground, knowing he’ll have to get up soon. There’s agony lingering in his arm. He sighs, steels himself; better get it over with.

There’s voices, Tony notes, and one of them sounds like an angel. He’s not in heaven, he knows that. He can’t deny the presence of the angel, though. He can’t deny it, because he knows it’s real… he recognises it.

‘Shit,’ the angel says.

‘You said you were going back for Peter!’ a deeper voice shouts in answer, much too loudly.

‘We did – he’s gone, shit shit shit! I can’t believe – we have to go back!’

‘We looked through the whole battlefield,’ another familiar voice says, and Tony groans inwardly. Captain Rogers. Definitely not heaven. ‘There’s nothing else we can do.’

‘Hey, what do you mean he’s gone? Pepper, Rhodes! What do you mean-’

His mind catches up somewhat to his body. The first consequence of that is his brain connecting the dots, starting to take note of the screaming, frayed nerves in his right arm. The second one is that he remembers. The angel’s name is Pepper, and the last woman who spoke, that’s May. Peter’s aunt.

Peter. Tony raises his head, blinks against the unforgiving light, and can’t find the kid.

‘Where is he?’

The room goes still, earning him a couple of seconds to get used to his surroundings. White walls, cold lamps in the ceiling. He’s lying on what both looks and feels like the Quantum Tunnel he and the Raccoon worked on, but that one was destroyed. Thanos obliterated the whole Compound. Has he ended up on the same one in the past? No, it’s not the same, the room’s different. Someone’s rebuilt it.

Behind a very familiar control panel, ten feet away, stands a shocked Bruce Banner. Dr Hank Pym gapes beside him next to May, and there’s the back of someone with a brown ponytail carrying a squirming child. Hank’s daughter, Hope, exits the room with the kid who’s still trying to see what everyone’s staring at. _Morgan,_ Tony realises, _that was Morgan._ The door slams shut before she has the chance to see him.

‘Oh my God,’ a figure says, looming over him. On further inspection, there are four of them, all in matching quantum suits. One of them is Rhodey, one is Cap, and another… a young Aunt Peggy, he realises numbly. The last is the angel.

‘Oh my God, Tony!’ she cries, kneeling down as he tries to sit up, meeting her halfway. Pepper grabs him by the back and presses him towards her; he breathes in a familiar scent, her fruity perfume, mixed with sweat and dirt that he doesn’t really care for but wouldn’t trade for the world. It smells like her. It smells like after they’ve gone for an especially exhausting morning jog, disgustingly sweet. He tries to bring the arm that isn’t holding him up to hug her closer, but the moment he lifts it off the ground he gasps.

_That’s definitely more than a broken bone._

‘Oh, oh god- are you hurt? Is everything okay?’ She pulls back, gives him a once over.

‘It’s nothing,’ he pants, trying to gather his thoughts. ‘Kid. Where’s, where’s Peter? He was right beside me-’

‘Tones,’ Rhodey says shakily, kneeling down beside him as well. ‘What the hell happened? You’re- you’re...’

‘Alive. Peter said I died.’

‘Yeah,’ Pepper confirms, choking on the word.

‘Damn kid- wouldn’t let me do it. He wouldn’t let me do it on my own.’ He rushes through his own memory, trying to find something that could explain how he got here – he remembers trying to send Peter back, making use of the delayed departure function. He remembers being found out at the last minute. A countdown, holding hands, grabbing the stones. The snap. Then… nothing.

A small, red lamp blinks at his wrist. He tries to raise his hand to tap it but bites down a shout at the pain – the right hand’s a no go for now it seems. Pepper presses it for him, and a hologram pops up, blaring three, haunting words.

‘What’s the Panic Button Protocol?’

‘Oh,’ she says. ‘That’s- we added that, in case something… In case something would go wrong, while we snapped- we were going to do it together, all of us, but Peter, he ran off-’ She doesn’t continue after that, too shocked, staring at her husband like she’s still waiting to wake up from a dream.

‘If the stones became too much for us,’ Steve says, ‘the suits would sense it and send us back, here, before the energy became fatal.’

‘Peter had that system too,’ Peggy Carter speaks up. ‘He should be here. We looked through the whole battlefield.’

‘Mrs Stark!’ a gruff voice speaks up from the control panel. Tony looks past Pepper and meets the wild eyes of Hank Pym. Neither he, Bruce nor May have moved an inch. ‘You told us you were going back for Peter and Rhodey – you said you didn’t have enough Pym particles!’

‘I lied,’ Pepper says without an ounce of remorse. Her hands hover over her husband’s charred arm – Tony is pointedly not looking at it, deciding it’s better if he doesn’t know. She stands with purpose. ‘Oh my god, you need a doctor. Someone, figure out what happened to Peter- we need bandages, we need something to sterilise it with.’

‘Cap,’ he says, trying to get past his own shock. ‘Pull up the status on Peter’s suit. Should be accessible through Friday.’

To some surprise, Steve complies right away, sitting down beside him. ‘Where do I press?’

Rhodey’s still kneeling, perfectly still. He looks like he’s seen a ghost. Tony’s mouth goes dry as his mind replays those words the kid said in the loop; _I went to your funeral. It’s been a month._

‘I need you to help me out here,’ he says, as gently as he can, ‘I know this is all a mess, but Peter’s still out there. We need to get him home before anything else, okay?’

‘I’ll get supplies,’ Rhodey says numbly. He doesn’t move.

‘I’m not going anywhere in this state.’

‘Hasn’t stopped you before.’ He shakes his head and, at last, manages to tear himself away. The suit opens once he’s stepped off the platform and the colonel runs off, much faster without it. The door slams open and closed again.

The noise seems to wake Bruce up, because the next moment he’s sprung into action.

‘What were you _thinking?_ We destroyed those suits for a reason – we rebuilt them on the condition that you wouldn’t do anything but retrieve Peter and Morgan! This is- this could have consequences none of us have foreseen, it-’

‘Glad to see you too, Brucie-bear,’ Tony mutters.

‘It has nothing to do with that,’ Banner says, positively horrified. ‘You know it doesn’t.’

‘The universe could collapse in on itself,’ Dr Pym says, much the same, ‘We need to call Strange.’

‘Is that it?’ Steve asks, pulling up a schematics on Peter’s suit. There’s numbers, a graph and a time-stamp. _Lost contact after 2023-_ _08-20_ _, 11:47:43. Damage to heat-regulating functions,_ _manoeuvring system_ _s and_ _integrity, left arm_ _. Panic Button Protocol_ _previously d_ _isengaged_ _._

‘Damn.’ Tony’s heart races as he goes over the words, again and again. _He turned off the protocol himself. He might be-_ ‘Pull- pull up the logs on the Panic Button, the latest changes- to the right, yes, click that.’

_Panic Button Protocol manually_ _disengaged_ _,_ _1947-_ _05-2_ _3_ _, 1_ _5_ _:04:19_ _._ _After power surge at 2023-_ _08-20_ _, 11:46:34, s_ _ystem reboot, functions re-established_ _._ _Quantum Tunnel detected at 1947-_ _05-2_ _6_ _, 17:45:2_ _7._ _Arrival time rebooted to 1947-_ _05_ _-_ _2_ _6_ _, 1_ _7_ _:45:27._

‘It sent him to the forties,’ Tony breathes. ‘He isn’t- he’s just in the forties. The systems rebooted. We need to get him.’

‘Excuse me?’ Dr Pym says, nearing the platform. ‘No, we can’t do anything until Strange gets here – you’re an anomaly. We’re standing at a precipice here, and one little push could destroy everything we’ve ever known!’

‘I’m just saying we should get him,’ Tony bristles.

‘And I’m saying there’s a real possibility there won’t be anything to get.’

‘Tony,’ Steve says, ‘look at these logs.’

_Body functions failing. Critical stage at loss of contact._

‘He’s hurt – we gotta go-’

‘No,’ Pym says, ‘we have to wait for-’

‘I’m not waiting!’ Tony shouts, sitting up despite the pain, blowing out spit through clenched teeth. Pepper steps in front of him protectively,

‘One more trip. Steve and Peggy need to return to their time anyway.’

‘Oh, Steve needs to return too? Mrs Stark, you know full well that isn’t possible! Why don’t we calm down and wait until Doctor Strange gets here? We can _time travel,_ after all. There’s no rush.’

Pepper meets him at the base of the platform, next to Rhodey’s suit. She presses one hand to the centre of her own and steps out.

‘We need to get him back.’

‘The past isn’t safe influenced by the future. If there’s anyone to get back, I agree.’

She nods, turns. ‘Okay. We can wait.’

Tony shakes his head. ‘No,’ he whispers, no he can’t – there is a rush, he has to know. It’s taken five years to get the kid back, and now he’s gone, _again,_ and Tony has to know, he can’t bear another second otherwise. He glances to Cap beside him, to Peggy standing mesmerised to the side. They’re the only ones left on the platform.

May stands across the room, forgotten. She’s crying, shaking, and when she notices him watching her gaze turns to steel.

‘Promise you’ll bring him back.’

_Body functions failing._ _If there’s anyone to get back._

‘It’s that lever there,’ he says, pointing to the green one to her right with his good hand. She pulls it and the Quantum Tunnel starts up.

‘No no no!’ Pym shouts, racing for the controls as Bruce pulls May out of the way.

‘Quick,’ Tony says, lifting his left arm up to show the coordinates. Peggy snaps out of her reverie and takes them down as fast as Steve. Below them Pepper’s stepping into her suit again, sending a harmless blast as a distraction for Pym and Bruce.

‘I’m coming with you,’ she says, tapping her wrist and waiting for the quantum suit to envelope her.

‘Just wait for Strange, Tony!’ Bruce pleads, ‘Let’s figure this out together!’

Hank lunges for the lever, ready to pull it up-right again.

‘I’m sorry Pep,’ Tony says. He bites his lip hard, rips his right arm up from the ground, and presses down on the go button. The world tugs at him, colours turning inside out. There’s a tunnel, a current, and, at last, the long awaited shore.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> more tony content in this chapter! yay!
> 
> next time - we find out which two people landed on howard's quantum tunnel, and after that, it starts to rain.


	21. Chapter 21

_May 26 th, 1947_

The Universe is never so kind as to offer miracles. Or, to put it another way, things are bound to screw up when you’re time travelling with little to no preparation.

They don’t end up next to Peter. They end up in a driveway – there’s a loud honk, a car swerving suddenly left, and tires braking fast enough to stir up buckets worth of dust and gravel. Peggy grabs Steve and shoves him out of the way before either of them realise the car’s already stopped. Tony sits awfully still in the place where he emerged, an inch from being run over. His arm dangles lifelessly and he’s as pale as a corpse.

‘What in heaven’s-’ the driver slams his door open, practically jumping out and almost forgetting his crutch in the process, ‘P-Peggy? Oh, oh my god- we thought- you didn’t return, what…?’

Chief Sousa steps around the car, halting to a stop when he sees Tony, still on the ground. Steve looks, dazed, to his quantum suit’s display.

‘This is three days after we left,’ he realises. There wasn’t time to process the date back in Pym’s lab.

‘Who’s that?’ Sousa asks, ‘Is, is that the guy you were saving? Where are the others? I- Peggy, Rogers – what happened?’

‘Change of plans,’ she says, throwing him a look of stressed apology before turning to scan the area. ‘I can’t see Peter – are we sure this is it?’

‘His suit detected a Quantum Tunnel,’ Steve remembers, ‘But there wasn’t one – there isn’t one here, right? I mean, we began to build one...’

‘Howard,’ Peggy says with a look that’s both relieved and ready to kill, ‘He finished it. Of course he did – god forbid he’d actually listen to us and destroy it.’

Tony breathes in a gasp of air like he’s just emerged from underwater and staggers upright. ‘Where is it? Where- where is he?’

‘The structure was in the basement when we left. You have to sit down, Tony, you’re going to pass out. I’ll run ahead-’

‘No.’ Stark bends over, for a moment looking like he’ll crumble to the ground, but then he stands up straight with renewed energy. ‘No, it’s not good enough.’ He raises his arm – barely a twitch, but enough to almost send him to his knees instead. Steve hovers nearby, not sure if his help would be at all welcome. Tony’s always testy when he’s in pain.

The man stares at his left arm, at the display on his suit. Scanning through numbers that would seem nonsensical to anyone else. He all but head-buts the screen, swiping down with his nose, and musters enough nerve to press the start button on his right hand – the helmet goes down over his head, and before the Captain can process any of this, he’s gone.

‘What…?’ Sousa asks, head whipping back and forth, ‘Where did he go?’

‘I don’t know.’ _Shit._

‘Steve,’ Peggy says, much calmer than either of her companions, ‘wherever he went, he’d want us to save Peter. That’s why we’re here. There’s a chance he’s in Howard’s lab, if he really did finish the tunnel – there’s nothing else we can do right now.’

‘Right,’ Steve says, forcing himself to adopt some of her cool. Besides, even half-dead there’s still a chance Tony might actually know what he’s doing. He thrusts his worries onto that glimmer of faith for now, breaking out into a sprint for Howard’s laboratory.

Chief Sousa, though perplexed, follows close on their heels. Even with his crutch he’s faster than many would take him for and doesn’t lag far behind at all when Peggy kicks in the door to the outhouse, not bothering with locks and handles. There’s a strange smell oozing up the stairs at the other end of the cluttered corridor. A flicker of lights comes from below. That generally doesn’t bode very well.

Steve goes easy on the creaking steps. He’s half expecting a sinkhole with wild tentacles of unkempt electricity lashing out of it, a scene taken straight from that science fiction movie Sam once showed him about an experiment gone wrong. There’s none of that, though. Silence envelops the basement, the lamps turning on and off like they’re not sure whether it’s worth sticking around for good. In the middle of it all – or, more accurately, stuffed away in a corner of the room – sits the now unresponsive make-shift Quantum Tunnel.

On it lies a body.

‘Captain Rogers – oh, miss Carter, we thought we’d lost you!’ Edwin Jarvis exclaims, wringing his hands. He’s standing next to a clearly upset Howard Stark, slumped over on a chair. Meanwhile, on the Tunnel’s small platform, Tony’s gasping for breath over Peter’s unmoving form.

Steve jumps over the heap of cords going through the room with his heart in his throat.

‘Found him like this,’ Tony manages to get out, holding himself up on one arm. ‘I- I can’t- CPR. I tried, I can’t.’

Rogers turns Peter onto his back and winces at the sight of him. The same as Stark, he realises. An arm that’s burned, charred and utterly destroyed by the power of the stones. What’s worse though is the few ashen tendrils that have climbed up his shoulder, going for his neck, like a vine strangling the tree.

Steve pulls himself together, feels for a pulse, and starts doing chest compressions.

‘What can I do?’ Peggy asks, coming up behind him, ‘What does he need?’

‘I don’t know-’ pump, pump, pump, 120 beats per minute- ‘I don’t even know what happened, what made his heart stop. I’m hoping for shock, that way we can restart it.’

‘Defibrillator,’ Sousa says from across the room, ‘Wasn’t that- Stark made something, a few years ago, wasn’t that for starting hearts?’

Tony looks up beside Steve, eyes snapping to a certain point behind him. Howard, probably.

‘Electricity,’ he rasps. ‘We can- there has to be electricity.’

Steve bends down, forces air into the kid’s lungs. _Come on. Don’t give up on me._ He places his hands back over that un-beating heart, and hesitates.

‘Can he be moved?’

Tony shakes his head, a bit too violently, ‘I don’t- no, I don’t think so. Electricity. Most likely shock. He’s- strong, we can…’

‘The power’s barely working,’ Peggy says, going through Howard’s machinery, trying to find something that’ll indicate a stable output. None of them turn on and the lights overhead dim further.

‘We can bring an extension chord from the main house,’ Jarvis says, ‘There should be some spare cable-’

‘Not enough time,’ Tony cuts him off, staring at the Captain intently. ‘Electricity.’

‘Is there a way to use the suits?’ Steve asks, glancing down at Stark’s – it’s been put under a lot of stress and he doubts it’s even functional after all that’s happened.

‘No. _You._ ’

Finally, it clicks in his brain. ‘Oh. Jarvis, help Howard out of here – seek cover, now!’

‘What?’ Sousa says, but starts to move towards the stairs anyway.

‘Help Tony up, get out of here.’ The Captain raises his arm, hoping it will work. There’s a far away tug, an answer; a promise. Relief mingles in his stomach with fearful anticipation. Help is on its way. ‘There’s no time to explain.’

‘Not going,’ Stark says, scooting closer to Peter. He clamps his working arm protectively around the kid’s good hand.

‘There’ll be debris.’

‘Don’t care.’

‘Mansueto...’ Howard says, barely a whisper. Steve turns to see him staring hauntedly at his future son. There’s no time for dragging more than one shell-shocked Stark out of there, so Steve reluctantly let’s it be. He waves away Peggy and Sousa from approaching Tony.

‘He thinks I’m my gr-’ the mechanic starts, then stops in search of another word. ‘His, his father. Kinda look like him.’

Howard continues to stare.

‘We need a shield,’ Rogers says. ‘Something to stop the ceiling from collapsing in on us.’

‘Mr Stark,’ Edwin tries, steering the man out of his chair, ‘your father died years ago. This isn’t him, it’s- it’s the man we were saving, remember? Peter and Morgan’s father. It couldn’t be old Mansueto Stark, now, could it?’

‘It isn’t,’ Steve says as he feels the power nearing with increasing speed. There’s a resisting pull in the other direction but he doesn’t back down and after a few deliberating moments the other part seems to give in. Hopefully this won’t change the past. If all goes well, he won’t be holding onto it for more than a few seconds.

‘So please,’ Jarvis continues to plea, ‘is there anyway we could create a shield over Mr Rogers and young Peter? It’s – it seems quite vital.’

‘Right,’ Howard says, still pale. He blinks, looks around the room, and notices everyone’s gloomy expressions. ‘Right. What are we doing?’

‘Arranging a shield over the Quantum Tunnel.’

‘Oh. That’s easy.’ He pushes away Jarvis’s hands, steps up to the only barely smoking control panel, and begins to unscrew it. Then he grabs two cables and rips off their casings. Against his butler’s protests and better judgement, he crosses the exposed cords, and winces at the jolt that goes through him.

‘Ouch.’

‘Mr Stark!’ Jarvis says, aghast. A hum travels through the Quantum Tunnel’s body, up the arches that meet in a dome shape overhead. A field of thrumming – well, _something_ – appears between the beams.

‘What the hell is that?’ Peggy asks with fascination.

‘Uh,’ Howard says, swaying on his feet. ‘Quite complicated. Wasn’t there something about getting out of here?’

‘Twenty seconds,’ Rogers warns though it’s mostly guesswork. It feels close and twenty might be stretching it. He’s not an expert on flying alien hammers – he’s only wielded it once before but found it rather instinctive, like an extension of himself, a limb he’d never known he was missing.

‘You better explain when this is all over,’ Peggy demands, staggering towards him. She sees the panic creeping up his face, begging her to _go_ , to _hurry_ , and bolts back to the stairs. ‘When it is,’ she shouts over her shoulder, ‘I’ll kiss you properly, so make sure you come back!’

‘Wouldn’t have it any other way.’

‘I don’t understand any of this,’ Sousa says, making up the rear and trying his hardest to keep up with the pace. ‘But don’t die, whatever it is you’re going to do. You’re actually not half-bad.’

‘Oh really?’ Steve says, but by now, they’ve all gone. There’s a shuffling on the floorboards above, a door opening, and hopefully they haven’t stopped right outside because he feels that godly presence now. It’s so, so close, and Tony’s still gasping over Peter’s still form.

‘I can’t lose him again,’ he says. ‘Don’t overdo it, he’ll fry.’

‘Thank you,’ Steve says as Mjolnir enters the atmosphere. ‘Thank you for trusting me with this.’

‘’m gonna kill you if it fails, you know.’

‘Sure you will,’ Steve says, and closes his eyes.

The hammer smashes through the building above as well as the basement’s ceiling. Concrete falls in massive chunks, smashing through the workbench, Howard’s graphite board, his storage. The force field above them, whatever it is, takes one hit from a pipe and collapses but by then Mjolnir’s already in his hand; he grabs the leather string on its end and swings it in a wild circle, demolishing anything that dares to come near. Dust practically pours down on the three of them.

It takes all of four seconds for the rubble to settle. The sun glares down on the crater. Steve glances to Tony.

‘You better move.’

Stark doesn’t hear it. He’s staring blankly at Peter, covered in dust, and shakes so violently he might end up dislocating a shoulder from it. Steve thinks he gets the gist of it; when they’d met after the great Loss, the mass extinction, there’d been four words that would proceed to haunt them both for years to come. _I lost the kid._

‘Tony. Let him go.’

Lightning courses through his veins, only a touch away and he could light up the sky with it, every sky, all he’d need to do is ask. _Ask,_ Mjolnir hums, _and I shall provide._ But he doesn’t need a thunderstorm, he doesn’t need to split the Earth in two. He needs a shock, a small one, a patient, strong one to restart a human heart.

‘No,’ Tony shivers. There’s one clean line down his face where a few tears have paved a path through the ashes.

It takes strength to resist the promise of power. He could fly through the stars, punch giants, there’s so much possibility – last time he’d had Thanos to take it out on but now he can’t let go, not without consequences. Thor must’ve trained for centuries not to fall for it each time the hammer’s picked up.

If Steve holds on to it for much longer, the god will notice and the past will be changed.

‘Tony. _Look. At. Me._ ’ He takes a deep breath and tries not to lose his grip on sanity. ‘Trust me.’

Tony finally tears his eyes away from the kid. His hand unclamps. Steve presses Mjolnir to that unmoving chest, closes his eyes, and prays. _A g_ _entle_ _shock_ _._ _Let it s_ _tay in his heart, bring back his pulse. Make it beat a thousand times more, a million. Let him live. God, he’s only sixteen._

A shock of electricity jostles Peter’s body – his back arches off the ground, hands convulsing around thin air. Above them great clouds have formed, waiting to unleash a storm. The sun disappears and rain breaks free. A drop here, a drop there. Thunder in the distance. Hands clamp down, grabbing fistfuls of pulverised glass from the broken floor of the platform. There’s a flutter of eyelids.

He gasps for breath, once, twice, lungs heaving. His heart beats again.

Tony looks up to face the dark sky, pale as a corpse and muddied with dirt, dust, blood; with one arm hanging useless and a split lip that’s still bleeding; hanging onto life by a thin, frayed thread.

And laughs.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Finally, everyone's alive. Phew! And with two whole chapters to spare - though there's still the questions of how Peter and Tony will get back to the future and just how injured they are. ,:) Next chapter is extra long though, so hopefully there'll be some answers in it! :D
> 
> See you Thursday <3


	22. Chapter 22

_October 2023_

‘We have to get them back.’

‘No one’s arguing that,’ Bruce rubs his forehead.

‘It just can’t be you,’ Hank Pym says, arms crossed, ‘You’ve proven yourselves unbelievably distrustful.’

They’re in a conference room in Pym’s building far from the Quantum Tunnel. It’s been off limits to anyone but Hank and Banner ever since the incident, which is to say a few hours, and the security cameras have been pointedly following Rhodey’s steps ever since.

Pepper sits straight as a rod beside him. May offered to care for Morgan the few moments that Strange had asked for without a child’s presence and her mother keeps glancing at the door, itching to go back outside.

Rhodes is itching too but it’s not for his god-daughter. She’s fine, he knows that. But the shock from seeing Tony alive for those couple of seconds only to come back to an empty room and the man gone still lingers and he itches to snag a wristband and search.

Afghanistan was long ago but he still remembers. Scouring the desert and delegating troops in the knowledge that he was responsible for the whole search operation had been hell, but what’s worse is not looking at all – he’s got no control over this and it’s just like watching the world disintegrate into dust all over again.

‘The space time continuum has weakened around us,’ Strange says. He’s at the head of the table, standing behind a chair with fingers drumming against the headrest. ‘We can’t afford any more complications. Stark and Peter, are they still alive, must be returned here. The same goes for Captain Rogers.’

‘It’ll have to be one swift journey,’ Banner says. He’s crouching on his and Hank’s side of the table, head still in his hands.

The Doctor nods. ‘No improvisations, no side quests so to speak.’

‘But we know the area and the time by now,’ Rhodey can’t help but butt in. ‘Send just me if you’d like – I’ll go without the armour, I’ve done stealth missions before-’

‘You’re not serious-’

‘I was against messing with time in the first place, and when I heard the plan I knew there was just the one chance-’

‘You changed your mind!’ Pym exclaims, ‘You decided to mess with time once, what’s keeping you from doing it again?’

‘We had one chance and it’s not like I’m going there to-’

‘And what if you find Stark dead-’

Rhodes suppresses a flinch, ‘Like I said, we had one chance! I wouldn’t risk a do-over-’

‘How can we know that?’ Bruce says as he sinks further into his seat, ‘You have to realise, after everything, we can’t take your word for it.’

Doctor Strange leans back, letting his hand drop from the chair. He studies both the colonel and Pepper like they’re fresh meat who managed to turn a training exercise into a declaration of war.

‘There’s too much at stake. It has to be someone else, but you’re right in that it can’t be anyone. We need someone with special knowledge and skills of the time period.’

‘Then who?’ asks Pepper quietly.

Stephen looks to the door. ‘I believe we’ve already found the perfect soldier.’

For a moment Rhodey thinks that means Morgan – why, he doesn’t know but it’s enough to make him tense up as the handle’s pushed down. It is only because of this that he’s able to relax when the door reveals Strange’s supposed time agent. They have one hell of a past, not quite friends but neither enemies, not since Germany.

A man emerges from the shadows like it’s in his nature.

‘You could say he’s an expert in the area,’ the Doctor proceeds as if they don’t recognise the man, as if he’s a stranger, ‘knows how to behave in the time and how to stay hidden. And, hopefully, he’ll be more loyal than you two.’

‘He’s still got a personal interest,’ Rhodey says, eyeing the new-comer with curiosity and slight wariness. ‘Loyalty.’

‘I do,’ the man says, tired and slightly wild eyed as if he’s just been debriefed on the whole situation. ‘I have an interest in keeping things as they are.’

‘What about your past?’ Pepper asks, sitting forward, ‘You’re supposed to be dead like Steve.’

‘I spent decades undercover. There’s a reason people thought of the Winter Soldier as a ghost.’ Bucky smiles sadly, bitterly. ‘I’m good at what I do and I’ve learnt not to deal with things I don’t know anything about. The past is the past and the only way forward is… well, forward. Trust me. I’ll be in and out before anyone notices, and I’ll bring them all home.’

* * *

_May 31 st, 1947_

Tony hasn’t left the kid’s side in three days. The first night someone insisted on moving them both to another room with two beds so that Stark would lay down and rest himself, but they couldn’t risk it, Peter’s too frail. He comes in and out of consciousness often, even speaks at times. Short, clipped sentences laced with confusion. Tony has to be there to placate the worries and lull him back to sleep.

They hadn’t quite thought everything through coming back here. There are no more Pym particles to take the kid to the future and either way, he can’t be moved in this state. Stark won’t risk it. He’s not faring too well himself either but that’s beside the point. Steve had made him lie down that first evening, threatening to carry him to another room. Pete’s bed is roomy and now they’re stuck between the sheets, high on 40s pain killers, immobile together.

It would’ve been creepy for him to share a bed with a minor, he thinks. It would’ve been, except Peter’s practically family. The whole wedding invite hadn’t just been a distraction. If he was to die he’d thought it might as well be with his heart on his sleeve.

The door to the guest room is pushed open. Steve Rogers hesitates in the entryway.

‘Tony...’ He takes a step inside, revealing a tray with two bowls of soup. It’s futile trying to get anything into Peter and Tony can’t eat, not when he has to spend every waking moment making sure the kid’s still breathing.

‘Waste of food,’ he says hoarsely. Steve places the tray on a bedside table.

‘Doesn’t have to be if you eat it.’

‘You gonna… nurse me? Really?’

‘Who else is going to do it?’ Rogers shrugs. A blissfully broth-y kind of scent drifts through the air. Tony’s been freezing since the rain they stayed in for far too long, making sure Peter’s heart wouldn’t stop again. He’d begged Cap to take carry the kid in first and was paying for it now. The soup’s probably warm. It wouldn’t be so bad to have a taste…

He refuses the first attempt at feeding for the sake of his pride. It still gives away easily because of how tired he is and the second time the spoon nears his mouth Tony swallows the humiliation and lets it happen.

His eyes dart to Peter. The kid’s chest goes up and down in sure breaths, eyelids fluttering. Still alive.

They’re silent while he eats. Four bites and then it’s too much – Steve puts the bowl away and leans back in his chair. Peter’s still sleeping.

‘We’ll get him better help,’ Cap says, continuing a conversation they’ve had over the last couple of days.

‘We don’t have fuel.’

‘Strange wouldn’t risk leaving you in the past, not with your own dad to top it all off.’

Tony turns his head to the side so that his right eye’s blinded by the pillow. The kid’s bandaged arm is facing Stark’s own, wrapped up all the way to the shoulder and across his chest.

‘Then why haven’t they come?’

Steve doesn’t answer straight away. Somewhere further down the house a radio’s broadcasting vintage music and a woman sings along to the tune.

‘I’ve been meaning to tell you,’ Rogers says and when Tony looks that way, the soldier is hanging his head.

‘What?’

‘You weren’t lucid before and ever since I haven’t been sure when to… but I guess now’s the time. The kid’ll need more help, the kind he can’t get in this time, and you do too.’

‘Spit it out,’ Stark says, trying for irritation but sounding more weary than anything else. A nagging feeling tells him he’s not gonna like this.

‘Someone did come.’

‘When?’

‘Three days ago.’

Tony bristles, ‘And you let me- let me lay here… worrying, all this time. Why?’

Rogers straightens up in the chair, looks out the window. He crosses his arms to hug his chest.

‘It’s Bucky.’

Silence follows the words.

‘Bucky?’ Tony states calmly. ‘Bucky your pal who- who murdered my mum in cold blood… that Bucky? Bucky the guy you betrayed me for, Bucky who-’

‘Yes, I know, but I didn’t ask him to come. Strange sent him.’

‘Can’t believe you were sad to see him though.’

‘No,’ Steve says without an ounce of shame, ‘I wasn’t.’

It’s been almost a decade since Germany but some things linger. And still, Stark’s too tired to pick up this same old fight they’ve had ever since.

Steve continues, ‘He’s brought quantum suits for us. We should leave when you can be moved.’

Tony turns his face towards Peter again. It’s easier than facing the Captain.

‘Kid’s still too weak.’

‘How long can we wait? He needs special treatments-’

‘You don’t have to convince me of that,’ Tony says and this time there’s a venom to it, a warning.

‘I know but… you need it too. He heals partly on his own, but you’re- normal.’

The dressings that Howard’s private, sworn-to-secrecy physician changes regularly have started to smell. He knows his arm’s probably infected, damaged in a way the past can’t remedy but that the future might be able to. Sure, Steve’s old pal might have gotten his metal arm in this time but they haven’t exactly got their hands on the Hydra physician who made it, and even so, the skull-head probably didn’t pay easing Barnes’ pain and suffering any mind. Also, Tony’s pretty sure there’s still hope for his arm without the need for amputation. It’ll be one hell of a recovery, but it might just heal.

‘I’m not leaving without him,’ he says. ‘A few more days. I can take it. Normal or not I’m still not _frail,_ Cap.’

‘I wasn’t saying that.’ Rogers’ eyes trail towards the open window. The singing voice is drifting in through it now, moving outside with a clinking of plates being set. A man’s voice follows it, chucking along with her. Jarvis and his wife who Tony never got to meet before she passed away.

‘I envy you for it sometimes,’ Cap continues. ‘I did envy you. You were able to take off the suit and go back to your old life, Pepper, whereas I…’

‘I’ve never had the picture perfect family though. Screwed up too many times for counting.’

‘No, I suppose not. But it’s easy to see it that way when you’re on the outside looking in.’

‘Yeah.’ A different kind of scent drifts through the window, a meatier, richer one than the broth. Tony thinks of aunt Peggy’s cooking, of the woman he’d glimpsed when he arrived.

‘You said we. We should go when I can be moved.’

Steve looks longingly out the window but it’s not in want of food.

‘Strange thinks the past is… strained. I’d decided to stay but I’m not sure if I should any more. And Howard...’

‘He’s not supposed to know,’ Stark says. ‘About you surviving.’

‘No, he’s not. Bucky’s brought this… this serum,’ Rogers says, fiddling with a spoon that weaves in and out of his fingers, ‘that will make him forget, but if I stay with Peggy he might run into me. Remember.’

Tony almost huffs a laugh. Almost. His chest feels like it’s been squeezed by the Hulk and breathing’s already straining enough as it is.

‘That’s your only concern?’

‘It’s not a minor one,’ Steve frowns.

‘Okay,’ the billionaire sighs, even though it stings, ‘I guess if you’re so stubborn… dead set on giving up… before you’ve even asked me, a literal genius. Then fine. Live out the rest of your life in misery.’

‘I could mess up the timeline.’

‘I thought Pete said you already stayed behind. Before he went and changed things, I mean.’

‘I don’t know,’ Steve says, ‘maybe I was just missing for a month. Time travel is… messy.’

He sighs and burrows his head in his hands for a few moments. Tony would have left it there – he should, they should quit while they’re ahead and time’s still intact and Morgan’s whole existence isn’t wiped from the universe. But he can’t help but think he owes the old Captain something after this whole shenanigan with the kid who’s biologically his and the teen who might as well be.

Perhaps it would be nobler if he said it out of the goodness of his heart. Not because he doesn’t like owing people. Also, he has a sinking feeling Cap will end up staying whether it’s logical or not, with or without a plan.

Better to spare them both the guilt. And, Tony is hooked on some seriously strong stuff at the moment – he wouldn’t say he is out of it, but the line between logic and spontaneity has drifted lately and he isn’t even sure he can see where one crosses into the other any more.

‘I don’t want you to fuck up the past,’ says Stark even if he doesn’t like to swear in front of the kid. ‘But if you’re going to stay anyway, you might as well use… some of that logic that brought me here.’

Steve looks up from his spoon.

‘I don’t follow.’

‘I’m still alive because it looked like I died. Otherwise you couldn’t have saved me, right? Would’ve been a paradox.’

‘I can’t hide for the rest of my life,’ Rogers says, ‘and it wouldn’t be fair to Peggy.’

‘No. But what if… and I say this because I don’t trust you to return to our time. Even if it would be better,’ Tony says like that’ll absolve him of putting the idea into Steve’s head, ‘But what if you weren’t you?’

‘What?’

‘You said it yourself. You wish you could have time for family. Not be Captain America for once.’

‘People would recognise me, wouldn’t they?’

‘Maybe. But not if you didn’t look like yourself.’

Steve speaks hesitantly, ‘Is that even possible?’

‘The schematics are in my head. Something I developed for Nat before… everything. Too dangerous to send out into the field… the enemy could get it and look indistinguishable from us, and for much longer than any previous SHIELD chameleon tech. So I scrapped it. But I could build it again.’

‘Not in this state. And you can’t stay here forever-’

‘I know, I know. But if good ol’ dad is forgetting anyway… I could write it down for him. Or get you to write it down.’

There’s a stretch of silence in which they both mull this over. A nagging part is telling Tony to take it back, laugh it off as ridiculous and make Cap come back to the future, free of the risks.

‘It could work,’ Steve says, hopeful.

‘Yeah. Just don’t muck with anything – no saving Bucko before his time’s come. Everything must stay intact.’

‘Yeah. Of course.’

Stark looks away. There’s an unspoken vow between them not to mention what Bucky will do if he’s not saved, when he’s not saved, and it’s not permission or forgiveness but gosh, Tony’s tired. He’s got half a mind on the fuzziness of his brain and the other half stealing glances at Peter’s moving chest. It’s been a decade. The world ended in that time and people died and came back to life. It’s been thirty odd years since Tony lost his parents and ten or so since the hateful memory of his father became something one could smile back upon, once in awhile.

They were friends once, Steve and him. Maybe they still are. He hasn’t really stopped to think about that, there’s been other things to keep track of.

‘Thank you,’ Rogers says earnestly. It makes Tony want to drag a hand over his face.

‘This is nuts. I shouldn’t be telling you this- I’m with Strange, he’s a reasonable guy. Everything’s fine as it is. Hey, I’ll even invite you over for Thanksgiving when we get back.’

‘I appreciate the offer,’ Cap hums amusedly, ‘but maybe ask Clint instead. His youngest is close to Morgan’s age, right?’

‘Nah, too many mouths. Can barely keep track of one toddler, and then there’s that one-’ Tony jerks his head towards Peter and it only hurts a little too much to be worth it- ‘running off on a whim. Can’t afford to be outnumbered, you know.’

‘With Rhodey, Clint and Lara, you and Pepper, that’ll be one adult a kid. And if you add Happy to that mix-’

‘Not _another_ child-’

Steve chuckles. It’s light and unbothered unlike the weight that’s been on both their shoulders since they failed to save the universe the first time they tried. Tony had Morgan and she lifted some of it for him, but Rogers… They didn’t spend much time together after Thanos was dead and the stones gone. He doesn’t know enough to say for sure, but he thinks he and Pepper fared much better than Cap did. He thinks they were lucky all things considered.

‘It would have been nice.’

‘Yeah,’ Stark agrees. The broth warms his stomach and makes his eyelids heavy. Peter’s still breathing evenly, fingers twitching in the midst of a dream.

‘I should join the others,’ Steve says with a look to the window, ‘Unless you’d like some more before I go?’

Tony eyes the bowl but shakes his head minutely.

‘Howard’s been wanting to ask you if there’s anything he can do. Medically speaking, that is. I’ve told him not to come in here, thought it best.’

‘He’s ahead of his time. Of course he wants a taste of the future.’

‘I’ll keep him away. Can’t promise he won’t send Jarvis, though, but if I let him know you’ll have him build something… it might placate him.’ Steve stands, taking the tray in one hand and looking out the window. Tony wonders if Bucky’s out there too, enjoying lunch in the warm summer breeze across from Howard Stark. He doesn’t ask.

‘You’ll have to leave soon. For your health.’

Tony doesn’t argue this time. The room falls quiet again as the door’s closed and he’s left alone with the unconscious kid beside him.

He doesn’t envy the way Howard greets Steve outside, their voices a whisper on the wind, not the way he used to. It doesn’t burn with the same corrosive bitterness. They never had that gilded, loving bond he’s worked so hard on with Morgan, but he doesn’t wish he could walk out there, sit down with everyone else and cement the relatively new, kinder image of Howard in his mind and make peace with the man. He doesn’t need it as much as he once did. The bed is comfortable and Peter’s still breathing.

Tony decides it won’t be so bad to close his eyes, just for a little while.

* * *

They meet two days later when Peter’s able to stay awake for more than a few minutes at a time and Tony’s eyes are getting too heavy to keep open. It’s a compromise between his needs and the kid’s. They’re mentally charging up before the big trip on two lawn chairs in the 40s sunshine, drinking it in. It’s nice here.

Jarvis hovers nearby with a parasol against the light. Howard stands beside him and Peter, not yet amnesiac.

‘Anything you’d like to add before you go?’ he asks, studying the blueprint in his hands. He’s close to finishing Tony’s invention which he ironically gushes over – something that’s never happened before – claiming it’s technologically advanced enough to even stump his designs. Tony’s not sure how to feel about that.

‘Nah, you’re all good. Pretty sure you could work your way around it if anything went wrong.’

‘Yup,’ Howard grins. He folds the blueprint and puts it away under his arm. ‘But I gotta give it to you, this thing is complex and for a scrapped project, you sure remembered a lot of it. Hat’s off.’

Stark junior shifts in his chair, averting his eyes.

‘I know it must be strange,’ Howard pipes up as he studies the lawn. ‘I mean, seeing me this young and handsome. Please tell me I’ve aged with grace though.’

‘I don’t know what you’re talking about.’

‘Me neither,’ Peter says a bit too hurriedly.

‘See? We’ve got no clue.’

‘Mm, sure. Because you do look exactly like my father. If that’s not genetics I don’t know what it is – unless you really are my old man back from the dead.’

Tony snorts but doesn’t say anything else. Denying it’s no use.

‘It’s good to know my legacy’s in safe hands,’ Howard says, clearing his throat as he gives his future son an awkward pat on the shoulder, gesturing to the kid beside them, ‘And Peter and Morgan have certainly inherited the intellect, though I don’t know where they’ve gotten all that recklessness from. It’s certainly not from me.

‘Sure it isn’t,’ Edwin says amusedly from behind them.

‘What I mean to say is… you’ve done well by the grand-kids. God, that sounds wrong. I’m way too young to be a grandfather – Jarvis, tell me I haven’t gone grey already!’

Stark senior trudges back to his butler and Tony feels himself relax. This whole thing is too much of a mind-fuck for him to deal with right now.

A breeze sweeps over the gardens and all those in it. Bucky stands ten feet away – he’s not looking at Howard and there’s guilt in his eyes. Serves him right, even if he didn’t exactly choose to become a murderous, brain-washed Hydra agent.

‘I guess this is goodbye,’ says Steve. Barnes smiles.

‘I thought goodbye was when you left to return the stones.’

‘You knew...’

‘I suspected. You’ve never been at home in the future, there’s always been something missing.’

Rogers shifts – Peggy’s standing on his left but she’s chosen to study the flamingo that pecks at the green grass, acting as if she’s not listening for the two soldiers’ privacy. Her lips tug upwards at the remark.

Bucky extends a hand and a mobius strip gleams in it, almost indistinguishable from the metal backdrop of his palm. It reflects sunny spots onto the lawn.

‘If you ever change your mind, or if the plan doesn’t work,’ he says, head jerking towards Howard. ‘We can’t have the past change.’

‘I’ll keep it hidden.’ Steve puts the wristband in his pocket like it’s a trivial thing. Tony musters enough strength to call out,

‘You better. Because I _will_ come back here to kill you, if you screw things up.’

‘Pretty sure you couldn’t if the universe had already imploded,’ Peter says. He’s got some colour back in his cheeks and his eyes aren’t as glassy as yesterday. Without the enhanced healing he’d probably be long dead but Tony doesn’t like to ponder such things. He needs every ounce of energy and sheer stubborn will to guide him through the coming journey – while the kid’s looking better and better by the minute, Stark has grown pale and prone to breaking into cold sweats. His hands shake slightly under the blanket Jarvis offered.

‘Thought you knew me better by now, Parker. I always find a way.’

‘Yeah, so do I, and I learned from the best.’

Tony looks to Barnes. ‘I think we’re ready. If the kid can quip, I trust he’s able to keep himself awake in the quantum realm.’

Bucky nods. It’s a solemn kind of thing and each time their eyes meet, the former assassin holds still for a second too long, searching for anger, hostility, hatred – any sign of attack. He doesn’t steel himself to meet it though. It’s a resigned action, a welcoming of the revenge Tony’s still owed that he didn’t spend in Siberia.

It would be easier to take it out in battle, but they’ve got no choice but to trust each other now, if only for the journey home. Besides, he’s really feeling the consequences of his and Peter’s stunt with the stones. He doubts he could even land a punch.

‘We swear ourselves to secrecy too, of course,’ Howard pipes up as Tony helps Peter to his feet. They end up leaning on each other like tumbling blocks of dominoes on the verge of a fall until Steve comes along. Soon they’ve both got their good arms slung around Cap’s shoulder and Tony squeezes the kid’s a little, a reassurance that he’s still there.

‘Yes,’ Edwin Jarvis says. ‘I won’t breathe a word of this to anyone.’

Peggy stays silent. Perhaps Steve has told her about the memory loss Stark senior is about to experience. As for Jarvis – well, Tony isn’t sure how much of the serum Bucky has brought but he wouldn’t worry about the butler breathing a word either way. Jarvis is nothing if not good with a secret.

‘Good,’ says Barnes curtly. After a second of deciding, Steve hands over the injured to him. Tony can practically feel the tension radiate off of Bucky’s cool, metal shoulder. He’s leaning against the same arm, is being held up by the same hand that strangled his mother.

It’s not flesh. It’s a weapon, and Bucky didn’t choose to have it welded to his body, but still.

Rogers takes his place next to Peggy. When they shift their weights it adds a minor tilt, a subconscious turn towards the other like a flower to the sun. There’s another man there that Tony doesn’t know, that the Captain called Sousa. He stands on Peggy’s left, silently watching the departing.

Howard is flanked by the Jarvis's and he sends a respectful look Bucky’s way – it’s absurd, but Barnes was a Howling Commando and Steve’s best friend, so it’s inevitable the two should have met before. The Winter Soldier shifts and Tony finds himself doing the same. A metal hand comes to rest on the younger Stark’s mobius strip.

‘On three,’ the soldier says. At his other side, Peter takes one last look at the two trios in front of them.

‘You’ve got my list, right? To put in the box, in the future. I mean, it’s a paradox but it has to be done, right?’

Steve nods – the kid explained it, back in the time loop, the list of options someone in the future had circled as a clue on how to save Tony. It doesn’t make sense, and neither does the box Cap supposedly got from an older Peggy but none of them are experts in time travel. Strange will have an explanation.

Probably.

‘Thank you,’ Parker says. ‘For- for everything.’

‘You take care of your old man,’ Howard nods, ‘and don’t run any more experiments around your little sister. I’m personally not up for doing this whole thing again.’

‘Especially not the snowstorm in the middle of summer,’ Jarvis quips.

‘It was hardly a storm – and anything in the name of defeating Hydra, right?’

There are more than a few things to unpack there, some things that Peter must have glazed over in his retelling of events, but Tony’s mind doesn’t catch up with half of it before Barnes says _three_ and they’re off to the future.

* * *

May’s allowed in the room when Bucky departs. She stands far from the controls and under the ever-watchful eyes of Hank Pym. Five seconds later three figures reappear on the Quantum Tunnel and she has to fight her own instinct to run forward and check on Peter, stumbling and being lowered carefully to the ground by Barnes. There’s medics on stand by and they heft the boy and Stark onto stretchers, and only when they’re carrying the patients towards the door does May dare venture from her assigned spot in the room.

Peter’s still conscious, if but barely. He gives her a half-smile,

‘Hey May. Guess I’m grounded, huh.’

‘For all eternity,’ she answers through tears. ‘We’re gonna have a talk about this when you’re better.’

‘’n that case I’m feeling like hell.’ The way he’s looking it’s not hard to believe.

Tony’s carried out first with Pepper alongside him – she and May share a look, a silent thank you before they’re separated for who knows how long.

Banner and Pym approach Bucky behind her but she doesn’t care for what they’re fighting about – Steve or not, there’s an elated feeling in her chest like all is well. Even as Peter looks to lie on his deathbed, pallid with hidden injuries she doesn’t know if she wants to unwrap in fear of what she’ll see. At least he’s here where he’s supposed to be, with her. At least now she can hold his hand and do something other than waiting.

May intertwines his uninjured fingers with hers as they enter the ambulance.

‘Everything’s gonna be okay, baby.’

‘I know,’ he slurs sleepily. The medics hook him up to various machines and even if they put on the sirens, there’s no deadly rush for the hospital. There’s a calm in the air and Peter’s smiling again, about to drift off. ‘You’re here.’

* * *

When Morgan’s allowed to see her father, at long last, she lets go of Rhodey’s hand and flings herself onto the hospital bed faster than a speedster. Her elbows prod into the bruises on Tony’s stomach and she cries against his chest. His tears drip into her hair along with a smile.

Rhodes sits down on the right side of the bed with Pepper already on the left. Afghanistan was long ago but he still remembers. After weeks of searching, of not sleeping, striving for the impossible and stretching, reaching, trying until he thought he’d break – there’d been a man, a figure in the desert like a heat stroke’s mirage. And the helicopter swooped down and took the man away, Rhodey holding onto his best friend’s hand for dear life like it would slip through his fingers again if he let go. There’d been a crashing wave of relief and a grief of what might have been back then, too. But it had passed, and life had gone on afterwards. It changed everything, but time didn’t stop. They’d moved on to greener pastures.

Rhodey remembers the days after, the adrenaline finally leaving his system, the blissful fatigue that could finally be acknowledged instead of pushed away. Rhodey remembers, and that’s how he knows he’ll finally be able to rest tonight.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> of course i'm gonna have them all be okay <3 this is a fix-it after all. Tony and Peter are back home, Morgan's got her dad back, and Steve plans to live out the rest of his days with the love of his life. oh, and i had to add in a Bucky cameo as well as Howard's conversation with Tony, because i'm the writer and i can do what i want :)
> 
> (fun fact - I wasn't going to have Howard realise at first but then all of your comments spurred on my imagination and I just had to do it)
> 
> but we've still got one more chapter to go! I'm not gonna say anything about it though. see you sunday for the last update on this fic :,)


	23. Epilogue

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> There’s an archive warning that applies to this chapter but which I’ve chosen not to tag. If you feel like you want that warning, scroll down to the end notes and read the first part. I’ll explain it without giving too much away.

The hardest part wasn’t the looming date of when she’d die. It was the years leading up to it, and not knowing how much time they had before she’d start to forget.

When the Internet first arrived, Steve typed Alzheimer’s into the narrow search-bar. As time went by more and more results began to pop up. He memorised the early signs, how to help prevent it, when to reach out to doctors. She was in her late seventies when he noticed the sticky notes. Peggy never really retired from SHIELD – she’d still lend a helping hand at times of crisis, like their first interactions with the Kree and Carol Danvers, and with a brilliant mind like hers she never had to write things down to remember them. Not until then.

He convinced her to travel with him. They went everywhere they’d always dreamed – Jamaica, Peru, Beijing and Malaysia. In New Zealand she asked him if they’d visit their old friend dr Wilks next and he had to tell her they already had. The sunsets were beautiful. Mexico was the last place they danced before her legs grew too weak for it.

The hardest part was the appointments, Peggy’s denial, and waiting for the day she wouldn’t recognise him any more. As she got worse, he began recording messages for her every night. _Good morning, beautiful. Your name is Peggy, and I am Steve, your husband. I love you so_ _very_ _much. Today is a Thursday-_ and then it’d go on, telling her the date, the year, what weather to expect and what they’d planned to do – if they’d planned anything at all – that day.

When she had to move to a full time care-home he knew he couldn’t come with her. When he’d visited Peggy all those years ago in his youth, she’d been alone. But Steve came, every day that his younger self didn’t, and tried to explain it to her when she couldn’t remember why there were two of him, one young and one old.

2016 came around. Her last snowfall, her last spring-blossoms, though she didn’t witness either of those. Peggy wasn’t lucid often. On a good day she’d speak to him for a few minutes and remember snippets of their life together. Like the children they’d had, the daughter they’d adopted later in life, Monica, who’d ended up teaching Physics at Midtown High.

On the bad ones she didn’t know who she was.

Her last summer was short and he thanked god for that. She couldn’t speak, couldn’t eat, and spent afternoons crying in confusion over where she was. It broke his heart. June 18th arrived. He put her head against his chest so she’d feel the strong beat of his heart, and she fell asleep, never to wake up.

He didn’t call the nurses right away. The sunset wasn’t stunning, not like Malaysia, not like Peru. It didn’t matter. She wouldn’t see it anyway.

* * *

_November, 2023_

Steve sets his old kettle on the stove, grumbling over the way the rusted controls barely move when he tries to turn them. He’s aged well but the super-strength of his youth has long since dwindled. At 109, or considerably more depending on whether he counts his years in the ice or not, he has about the stamina of a healthy sixty year old. It’s beyond what he should have but less than he’s used to. Sometimes he has to remind himself not to overestimate his power or he’ll end up breaking a bone or two.

Framed pictures stand on the mantelpiece, recounting a life well lived. There’s a family of five on a beach with their second golden retriever; him, Peggy, a teenaged James and Angie with the brown hair of their mother and blue eyes of their father. Monica sits on Steve’s hip, smiling around a lollipop. It had been their first vacation since she joined the family.

The years after Peggy have been dull. There’s not much to do around the house. He’s hired a cleaning lady – Emilia, a sweet twenty-year old with a tendency to forget spots to dust – who comes by, once a fortnight, and he tries to make it to senior bingo every Saturday. It’s hard to find the motivation though. Everything he used to live for has left for heaven already.

James went young, a navy officer buried at thirty. Angie isn’t gone yet but she lives in Poland since a few decades past, working as the CEO of a security firm – she was a victim of the snap and is struggling with returning to her family and a company run by new management. They’ll be fine, but she doesn’t have much time for her father these days. They don’t talk much over the phone any more.

Monica tries her best to visit but she’s busy nowadays. She survived the snap and has already gotten used to the fact that he’s not around, that there’s no one to check up on. It’s not because of ill-will that she forgets. He doesn’t blame her for it.

It’s been a mere two months since he returned to Earth; five years ago, when Thanos snapped his fingers, Steve was relieved to find himself crumble to dust. That way he wouldn’t have to wait five more years until using Bucky’s old gift.

The kettle whistles and he pours himself Peggy’s favourite tea, blackberries and citrus. The kitchen table’s stained a hundred times over and one of the legs is shorter than the others. He has to be careful not to spill the drink as he sets the box down, the surface shifting under this newfound weight.

When Bucky left him the mobius strip, he came from a month past – Steve has had to wait until after that lest his friend have changed his mind, had he known what Rogers would do with it. He’s had to wait to make he hasn’t screwed up the timeline.

The former super-soldier takes his old wristband out of the box it’s called home for the last half century; it’s heavier than he remembers it to be, but snaps around his arm like a custom fit even with how much smaller he’s gotten. The quantum suit is charged with two sets of Pym particles. A round trip, even though he’s only going to use one for himself.

He calls Monica. She’s at school, teaching, but he leaves her a voice message with everything that’s gone unsaid, though that’s not much at all. Then he does the same for Angie, Sam and Bucky. They’ve already said their goodbyes in one form or another but it feels good to do it anyway.

He sets the date to 2014. One last look around the house – the plants will all surely die within the next few weeks unless the cleaner wishes to take them. Peggy’s and his last dog followed her six years ago, liver cancer. There’s nothing else left for him here.

Steve pushes the button and lets go of his life.

* * *

Peter and Morgan are playing in the garden when the phone rings. Tony’s watching as the older kid keeps straining himself like he shouldn’t but Parker’s too stubborn and pointing it out won’t do much good. Besides, Stark isn’t much for rest himself. He wipes the dishwater off his hands and the brace covering his still healing arm, and picks up without glancing at the dial – as much as the news are hounding his journey back from the dead, none of them know his current number. There’s only a handful of people who do and he’s not opposed to speaking to any of them.

‘Tony here, you calling about my awesome Thanksgiving extravaganza? It’s just a few days away but I think I can squeeze you in-’

‘Hey, you need to come here _right now_.’

‘Uh… Clint?’

‘Yeah,’ the archer says, breath in his throat, ‘I-I think, something’s happened. I’m not sure- I think it’s her.’

‘Who?’

‘ _Natasha._ In our back-yard. It could be some shape-shifter, I wouldn’t know unless we talk to her again, but- she’s unconscious. I- I think it’s her. It looks like her.’

‘Okay, calm down. Just, deep breaths, okay?’ Tony runs a hand over his face and it stings a bit but there’s a lot of nerve damage and he doesn’t feel most of the lingering injuries. As much as he wishes it could be her, chances are some alien imposter is running amok dressed as the Black Widow. That’s not good. Aside from not being good, it’s also damn disrespectful to her memory and he won’t let that stand.

‘When did this happen?’

‘Five minutes ago Lila told me she saw someone outside. I went to check, and… and there she was.’

‘Okay. Okay, I… did she arrive conscious? You said talk to her again, did she say something?’

‘Yeah. She… Tony, she said Steve sent her.’

* * *

_2014_

Red Skull waits for him at Vormir’s ledge.

‘Captain Rogers. I met you just yesterday, yet here you are, decades older.’

‘Yes, well. I forgot something,’ he huffs somewhat with humour.

‘You don’t come to reclaim the stone,’ the hooded figure remarks with his spooky all-knowingness. The tattered cape scrapes across the ground like the rag Emilia uses on the kitchen table.

‘No. I came to… switch places.’

‘Death doesn’t work like that.’

‘It’s not how you think it is,’ Steve smiles, coughing around the lump in his throat. Time travel is much harder when your body’s old and frail.

‘You don’t come for your wife,’ Red Skull says, cocking his head. ‘Nor your son.’

‘No. She’s lived a full life. I don’t wish to disrupt her rest.’ Rogers steps forward, over the small rocks that litter the edge of the cliff. ‘James went so long ago, I’m not sure it would be best to bring him back now. But there’s someone else. Isn’t this how it works, a soul for a soul? Mine for hers. I’ll die soon anyway.’

‘In the time I’ve guarded the soul stone, I’ve never witnessed such an exchange,’ Red warns, ‘I do not know if it would work.’

‘I know,’ Steve nods. ‘It’s a leap of faith. And I have faith in her.’

It’s peaceful on the cliff, and speaking to one who once was his enemy doesn’t disturb him as much as last he was here. He would stay and watch the sun rise from above the mountains in the distance, but something tells him it never will. It doesn’t matter. He’s watched enough dusks and dawns to last a lifetime.

The fall isn’t as long as he’d thought it’d be. All of those thousands of steps leading up to the ledge take only seconds to pass, and when the ground smashes into his skull – or perhaps it’s the other way around – all Steve feels is relief.

* * *

He wakes in a stretch of shallow water. The sky is a peachy orange that reflects onto the small ripples he make as he sits – it’s just warm enough to feel tropical, but not enough for him to want to take his jacket off.

A faint, distant sound echoes through the valley. A saxophone, getting louder and louder as Steve’s lips spread into a smile; he remembers. It’s a song he and Peggy used to dance to, so long ago now, and the memory is weak but the more he tries the louder the music gets. It settles on the pleasant volume of a band playing in a pub, a background sound you can still talk over but enough to fill the room all the same.

Wanda showed him something like this once. A vision of home, of dancing, of…

‘Took you long enough.’

Peggy’s smiling in her Sunday best. It’s that dress she wore the night Steve proposed, then again on their honeymoon.

She offers her hand to him.

‘Come. Let’s dance.’

They do.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The archive warning of main character death applies to this chapter. It’s a look forward in the character’s life and they die at an old age without pain. It’s described in a sweet manner and the character is ready to go, but it is still sad. If you feel you wish to skip this moment in the story, feel free to! I didn’t tag this fic with main character death because I thought it would send the wrong impression in a fix-it fic, and make people think I wasn’t going to deliver on the bringing-Tony-back promise.
> 
> \-----
> 
> Wow guys. It’s bittersweet to upload this because I’ve really enjoyed your comments along the way and seeing you guess where it’s going, expressing your love and frustrations - it’s all been great. Alas, every story has an end.
> 
> But for me, there’s still some things I’d like to explore. I didn’t get to write a lot of Tony and Peter interacting - and what about Natasha? How will she react to getting back? And Morgan, how does she cope with all of what’s happened?
> 
> What I’m saying is, I’m writing a sequel. If you’re happy with the story ending here then that’s fine - I’m so happy you came along for the ride! But if you’d like to see how our heroes cope with the aftermath, I’ve uploaded the first chapter of the next fic already. It’ll be awhile before I continue it but I thought I’d get the first one out there so anyone who wants to follow it can bookmark and get notified when I do carry it on!
> 
> Thank you guys so much for your kudos and comments again. I really appreciate it <3 Lots of love to you!


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